iLlllUl 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  TRAMP 

BY 


THE  FAMOUS  TRAMP 


WRITTEN  BY  HIMSELF  FROM  ACTUAL  EXPERI- 
ENCES  OF  HIS  OWN  LIFE. 


Illustrated 

by 

JOSEPH  EARL  SHROCK 


SIXTH  EDITION 


Price,  26  Cents. 


Copyright  1913 
By 

THE  A-No.l  PUBLISHING  CO. 

All  subject  matter,  as  well  as  all  Illustrations,  and  especially  the  title  of  this  book,  are 
fully  protected  by  copyright,  and  their  use  In  any  form  whatsoever  will  be 
vigorously  prosecuted  for  infringement. 


THE 


(trade  mark) 

PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

ERIE,  PENN’A, 

<<it!c5>i»il7  U.  S.  A. 


“The  Toll  of  the  Road” 


Annually 

in  the  United  States  and  Canada 

350.000 

boys  run  away  from  their  homes 

35.000 

become  confirmed  tramps. 


OF  THESE 


30.000 

become  drunkards  and  beggars 

4,000 

become  dangerous  criminals 


7,000 

are  injured  or  maimed 

3.500 

are  killed  by  the  cars,  etc. 


HE  aim  of  this  book  is  to  clear  the  railroads 
and  highways  of  the  vicious  element  among 
the  tramps ;  to  stop  the  training  of  harm¬ 
less,  runaway  boys  by  fiends  into  fiends; 
to  prevent  further  additions  to  the  long  list  of  in¬ 
jured  and  maimed  trespassers  who  burden  the  hos¬ 
pitals;  t©  lessen  by  a  heavy  percentage  the  hosts  of 
prisoners  confined  in  penal  institutions;  to  reduce 
to  a  minimum  the  number  of  unfortunates  who 
finish  their  wasted  lives  as  inmates  of  almshouses 
and  to  save  all  of  these  from  an  inglorious  sepulture 
in  potter’s  fields. 

I  wrote  this  book  to  benefit  humanity. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


An  Introductory. 


CHAPTER  I. 
f‘The  Harvester.” 

IT  is  my  turn  tonight  to  relate  for  your  entertainment  a 
story  of  my  past,  and  I  shall  repeat  to  you  the  most 
pathetic  happening  that  I  have  ever  experienced 
in  all  my  life.  I  have  never  been  able  to  eradicate  its 
details  from  my  memory,  as  I  witnessed  its  beginning 
with  my  own  eyes,  and  its  ending,  many  years  later,  was 
told  to  me  by  one  of  the  principal  participants.” 

“I  shall  not  repeat  to  you  one  of  the  same,  old,  time¬ 
worn  tales  of  how  slick  hoboes  beat  trains,  nor  fabled 
romance  concerning  harmless  wanderlusters,  nor  jokes  at 
the  expense  of  the  poor  but  honest  man  in  search  of  legiti¬ 
mate  employment,  but  I  shall  relate  to  you  a  rarely  strange 
story  that  will  stir  your  hearts  to  their  innermost  depths 
and  will  cause  you  to  shudder  at  the  villainy  of  certain 
human  beings,  who,  like  vultures  seeking  carrion,  hunt 
for  other  people’s  sons  with  the  intention  of  turning  them 
into  tramps,  beggars,  drunkards  and  criminals — into  de¬ 
spised  outcasts.” 

The  man  who  spoke  was  a  typical  old-time  harvester, 
who  was  known  amongst  his  acquaintances  as  “Canada 
Joe”,  and  the  men  for  whose  entertainment  he  offered  to 
tell  this  story  had,  like  himself,  worked  from  dawn  until 
nearly  dark  in  the  blazing  sun  and  the  choking  dust  of  the 
harvest  field,  gathering  the  bounteous  wheat  crop  of  one 
of  South  Dakota’s  “Bonanza”  farms,  and  who,  now  that 
their  day’s  toil  had  been  accomplished  and  their  suppers 
partaken  of,  were  lounging  upon  the  velvety  lawn  in  front 
of  the  ranch  foreman’s  residence,  and  while  the  silvery  stars 
were  peacefully  twipkling  in  the  heavens  overhead,  they 


4 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp 


V 


This  evening  it  was  Canada  Joe’s  turn  to  tell  a  story. 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


5 


were  repeating  stories  of  their  checkered  lives,  which  only 
too  often  brought  back  memories  of  those  long-ago  days, 
before  they  too  had  joined  the  flotsam  of  that  class  of  the 
“underworld”,  who,  too  proud  to  degrade  themselves  to 
the  level  of  outright  vagrancy  while  yet  there  was  a  chance 
to  exchange  long  and  weary  hours  of  the  hardest  kind  of 
labor  for  the  right  to  earn  an  honorable  existence,  were 
nevertheless,  included  by  critical  society  in  that  large 
clan  of  homeless  drifters — “The  Tramps”. 

And  this  evening  it  was  for  “Canada  Joe”  to  tell  a 
story. 


CHAPTER  11. 

“The  Samaritans.’’ 

Many  years  have  passed  since  the  day  that  “Peoria 
Red”  and  I  were  caught  out  of  doors  and  entirely 
unprepared  to  face  one  of  the  worst  blizzards  that 
ever  swept  down  from  the  Arctic  regions  across  the  shel¬ 
terless  plains  of  the  Dakotas. 

We  had  been  “hoboing”  a  ride  upon  a  freight  train  and 
had  been  fired  off  by  its  crew  at  a  lone  siding  about  fifty 
miles  east  of  Minot,  North  Dakota.  In  those  early  days 
trains  were  few  and  the  chances  that  one  of  them  would 
stop  at  this  lone  siding  were  so  small  that  we  decided  to 


6 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


walk  to  the  nearest  water  tank,  v/hich  in  those  days  of 
small  engines  were  never  more  than  twenty  miles  apart, 
and  there  catch  another  ride. 

It  was  a  clear  winter  morning,  and  the  sun’s  rays  were 
vacillating  upon  the  snow,  that  like  a  gigantic  bedspread 
covered  the  landscape,  and  which  made  walking  upon  the 
hidden  and  uneven  track  a  most  wearisome  task,  the  more 
so  as  neither  of  us  had  tasted  a  mouthful  of  food  since  the 
preceding  day’s  dinner  hour.  While  we  were  debating  and 
wondering  how  and  where  we  would  rake  up  a  meal  amongst 
the  few  and  widely  scattered  ranches,  the  wind  veered  to 
the  north  and  commenced  to  blow  with  ever  increasing 
force.  Soon  heavy,  gray  clouds  followed  in  its  wake,  and 
quickly  overcast  the  sky,  and  by  two  o’clock  in  the  after¬ 
noon  the  rapidly  growing  fury  of  the  wind  commenced  to 
drive  sharp  pointed  particles  of  snow  before  it,  which,  as 
the  storm  increased  to  cyclonic  proportions,  changed  to 
masses  of  rotating  darts,  which  cut  into  the  exposed  por¬ 
tions  of  our  illy-clad  bodies  and  made  breathing  a  serious 
problem. 

We  soon  gave  up  the  small  hope  of  being  able  to  reach 
a  ranch  house,  as  to  leave  the  railroad  track  would  have 
spelled  death,  as  we  would  have  lost  our  way  in  a  few  min¬ 
utes,  as  even  now,  while  it  was  yet  broad  daylight,  we  could 
barely  see  a  couple  of  telegraph  poles  ahead  of  us,  and  when 
night  approached  the  ever  increasing  fury  of  the  blizzard 
greatly  reduced  even  this  short  distance. 

Staggering  against  the  snow  storm  our  one  ardent  prayer 
was  that  we  would  reach  our  only  hope  for  succor — one  of 
those  railroad  section  houses,  which  are  located  ten  miles 
apart  along  the  right  of  way  of  every  railroad,  and  are  the 
homes  of  a  foreman  and  a  crew  of  laborers  who  repair  and 
keep  the  track  under  constant  surveillance. 

Every  moment  the  cold  increased,  and  although  ^we 
were  spurred  on  to  almost  superhuman  efforts  by  sheer 
desperation  to  tnwart  the  fate  we  knew  would  be  ours 
should  we  falter  by  the  way,  gradually  our  strength  failed 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


7 


us,  and  although  we  tried  to  encourage  each  other  to  quicket 
progress,  it  took  every  vestige  of  our  will  power  to  drag 
our  benumbed  feet  from  step  to  step  against  the  howling, 
snow-laden  hurricane. 

Peoria  Red  piteously  pleaded  with  me  to  stop  so  he 
could  recuperate,  but  well  knowing  the  result  should  we  lin¬ 
ger,  I  shouted  my  warnings  to  him  above  the  screaming  of 
the  storm,  and  v/hen  he  reeled  and  even  sank  into  the  snow, 
I  pulled  him  back  upon  his  feet  and  forced  him  to  move  on. 

Presently  I  felt  myself  overtaken  by  the  same  drowsi¬ 
ness  that  had  enthralled  Peoria  Red,  and  a  queer  numbness 
which  a.3  it  crept  upwards  from  my  feet  seemed  to  kill  my 
ambition  to  battle  for  life  against  the  ‘'Death  of  the  Arctic.’* 

Just  as  the  last  gleam  of  the  blood-red  sky  which  re¬ 
flected  the  setting  sun  was  swallowed  up  in  the  swirling 
masses  of  ice  motes,  Peoria  Red  sank  beside  the  track,  and 
although  I  tried  everything  to  cause  him  to  realize  his 
danger  if  he  failed  to  follow  me,  he  keeled  helplessly  over 
into  the  snow,  while  a  glassy  stare  in  his  half-shut  eyes  told 
me  that  he  was  doomed. 

Then  my  own  danger  came  home  to  me.  Self-preser¬ 
vation  is  the  first  law  of  nature,  and  I  promptly  realized 
that  to  save  my  own  life  I  must  reach  the  section  house, 
which  I  felt  assured  could  not  be  many  miles  ahead  of  me, 
and  where  I  would  not  only  find  shelter  for  myself,  but  per¬ 
haps  obtain  assistance  to  rescue  my  pal  before  it  would  be 
too  late. 

After  taking  one  more  farewell  look  at  Peoria  Red  I 
made  a  step  towards  the  track,  but  fell  heavily  to  the  ground. 
During  the  minutes  I  had  lingered  to  save  the  life  of  my 
partner  my  feet  seemed  to  have  been  turned  into  solid  lead. 
I  laughed  aloud.  As  I  was  yet  in  full  possession  of  my 
mental  faculties  this  seemed  to  me  a  cruel  joke,  and  I 
tried  to  arise  so  I  could  by  stamping  revive  the  circulation 
of  the  blood,  but  every  time  I  arose  half  way  I  tumbled  help¬ 
lessly  back  into  the  snow.  The  desire  to  live  increased,  and 
when  I  felt  the  numbness  creep  frommy limbs  into  my  body. 


8 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


I  crawled  alongside  Peoria  Red  and  snuggled  closely  against 
him,  hoping  that  our  mutual  body  warmth  would  stave 
off  the  crisis  to  the  last  possible  moment.  He  was  groan¬ 
ing,  and  mustering  the  last  vestige  of  control  I  yet  had  over 
my  benumbed  hands,  I  searched  about  in  the  darkness  until 
I  found  his  frozen  fingers,  and  clasping  them  in  my  own  I 
placed  my  mouth  close  to  his  ear  and  pleaded  with  him  to 
bid  me  farewell.  He  was  too  far  gone  to  speak,  but  twice 
a  faint  pressure  against  my  frozen  fingers  told  me  that  he 
had  understood  me,  and  I  responded  in  the  same  manner. 
These  were  our  farewells  to  each  other  in  this  world,  a 
fitting  finish  to  the  tragedies  of  our  toilful  and  thankless 
lives.  I  sank  back  into  the  snow  and  while  I  dreamily 
watched  the  snowflakes  weave  our  spotless  shroud,  I  dozed 
away  and  dreamed  of  those  glorious,  care-free  days  when  I 
was  yet  with  the  “old  folks”  at  home,  chasing  bright-hued 
butterflies  in  the  warmth  of  the  sunshine  of  youth  and 
happiness. 

The  next  thing  I  recall  was  a  burning  sensation  in  my 
throat,  which  involuntarily  caused  me  to  open  my  eyes.  I 
felt  as  if  I  had  slept  for  such  a  long  time  that  all  my  facul¬ 
ties  had  become  useless,  for  I  could  not,  try  as  I  might, 
utter  a  word  or  move  a  muscle,  although  to  this  day  I 
vividly  remember  having  heard  a  man,  whom  I  could  plain¬ 
ly  see  as  he  poured  a  steaming  liquid  into  my  open  mouth, 
exclaim:  “Thank  God  we  are  having  better  luck  reviving 
this  poor  fellow  than  we  had  with  the  other  one!  Look, 
he  has  just  opened  his  eyes,  and  listen,  can  you  not  hear 
him  faintly  groan?”  Then  I  wandered  back  into  dream¬ 
land — into  a  most  dangerous  delirium  which  lasted  for 
several  weeks  and  during  which  I  hung  as  if  by  a  mere 
thread,  betwixt  life  and  death. 

When  I  recovered  my  reason,  I  found  that  I  was  dom¬ 
iciled  in  the  bunk  house,  that  together  with  the  section 
house  and  tool  house  form  the  total  of  buildings  upon  every 
railroad  “section”  reservation.  The  foreman  and  his 
family  resided  in  the  section  house,  a  two-story  building; 


•  The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


9 


the  tool  house  was  used  for  storing  the  hand  car  and  the 
track  tools,  while  the  bunk  house,  a  small,  one-story  build¬ 
ing,  formed  primarily  the  sleeping  quarters,  and  secondly 
the  social  center  of  the  section  crew,  whose  five  roughly 
dressed  men  were  only  permitted  to  enter  the  adjacent 
section  house,  where  they  boarded,  at  meal  hours,  as  the 
foreman’s  home  was  at  all  other  times  considered  by  them  a 
sort  of  hallowed  spot.  But  the  bunk  house  was  their  own, 
as  within  it  they  slept  at  night  in  the  wooden  “bunks”, 
which  were  nailed  one  adjoining  the  other,  all  around  the 
boarded  walls,  while  in  the  center  a  small  stove  in  which  a 
roaring  fire  was  kept  up,  made  things  comfortable  for  the 
inmates  when  they  returned  in  the  evenings  after  their 
day’s  work  was  done,  and  all  day  every  Sunday — their  day 
of  rest. 

While  the  men  were  absent  and  I  was  yet  unable  to 
attend  to  my  needs,  a  sweet-faced  lady  looked  after  my 
wants  and  gave  me  my  medicine.  She  was  the  foreman’s 
wife,  and  her  ever  cheering  words  with  never  a  sign  of 
weariness  that  I,  a  sick  and  penniless  harvester,  should 
have  so  unexpectedly  become  a  charge  upon  her  hands, 
were  most  grateful  to  me. 

I  made  inquiries  among  the  laborers  and  ascertained 
from  their  answers  that  I  was  being  cared  for  at  the  very 
section  house  that  Peoria  Red  and  I  had  striven  to  reach 
during  the  howling  blizzard.  I  tried  to  find  out  what  had 
become  of  my  partner,  but  somehow  they  evaded  my  ques¬ 
tions  and  it  was  many  days  before  I  managed  by  slow 
degrees  to  learn  from  them  the  facts  concerning  his  absence. 

During  the  height  of  the  blizzard  the  foreman  had 
ordered  his  crew  out  and  upon  their  hand  car  driven  at  a 
lively  rate  by  the  power  of  the  wind  they  had  inspected  every 
switch  and  car  standing  on  sidings  upon  their  section,  to  as¬ 
sure  themselves  that  everything  was  properly  safeguarded. 
While  they  v/ere  slowly  “pumping”  the  hand  car  home¬ 
ward,  fighting  against  the  force  of  the  raging  snow 
storm,  they  discovered  us  lying  closely  cuddled  together, 


10 


The  T rail  of  the  T ramp. 


all  but  buried  in  the  snow  and  beginning  the  eternal  sleep 
of  death.  They  stopped,  and  finding  that  we  were  yet 
faintly  breathing,  they  loaded  us  upon  the  hand  car  and 
brought  us  to  the  section  reservation. 

Here  by  every  means  known  to  them  they  tried  to 
revive  the  flickering  sparks  of  life  left  in  our  frozen  bodies. 
In  my  case  they  were  successful,  but  Peoria  Red,  poor  fel¬ 
low,  failed  to  respond  to  their  heroic  eiiorts.  The  following 
day  they  buried  him  on  a  slight  elevation,  diagonally  across 
the  track  from  the  bunk  house,  where,  whenever  I  looked 
in  that  direction,  I  could  plainly  discern  the  white  board 
cross  that  the  whole-souled  laborers  had  erected  to  mark 
his  grave. 

The  section  forman’s  name  was  Henry  McDonald. 
He  was  a  kind-hearted,  yet  stern  man  who  demanded 
utmost  obedience  of  those  whom  he  commanded,  while 
at  the  same  time  he  was  a  loving  father  to  his  family. 
Foreman  McDonald  had  none  but  the  friendliest  of  greet¬ 
ings  for  me  and  he  spent  many  moments  at  the  bunk  house 
trying  to  cheer  me  in  my  hard  luck.  Whenever  I  felt  ill 
at  ease  for  having  added  such  a  heavy  burden  to  his  small 
income,  his  quaint  answer  would  always  be:  “Joe,  what 
little  we  can  do  for  you  we  would  cheerfully  do  for  any 
human  being  in  distress.  We  do  not  ask  for  your  ex¬ 
cuses,  as  I  feel  that  the  Almighty  above  us  will  take  care 
of  me  and  my  family,  the  pride  of  my  humble  life.“ 

When  I  recovered  some  of  my  former  strength  I  did 
the  chores  for  the  section  foreman’s  wife,  who  not  only 
boarded  the  five  members  of  her  husband’s  crew,  but  took 
proper  care  of  her  four  healthy  and  ever  hungry  children. 

The  oldest  one  of  them,  a  boy  of  sixteen,  was  named 
onald.  Then  came  a  set  of  lively  boy  twins  of  fourteen, 
who  had  been  baptized  “Joseph”  and  “James”,  but  who 
were  for  convenience  called  Joe  and  Jim.  These  twins 
resembled  each  other  so  closely  that  only  their  parents  and 
intimate  acquaintances  could  tell  them  apart.  They  were 
inseparable  companions,  and  full  of  boyish  mischief.  The 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


11 


When  I  watched  Baby  Helen  repeat  her  evening  prayer,  I  turned  away, 
for  I  realized  that  I  missed  that  what  is  most  sublime  in  all  creation: 

A  loving  wife  and  devoted  mother;  a  healthy  baby  and  one’s 
own  “Home,  sweet  Home.” 


12 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


fourth  child,  the  pet  of  everybody-,  was  a  beautiful,  doll- 
like  baby  girl  of  three,  whose  name  was  Helen. 

There  was  one  singular  imperfection  about  these 
children,  that  they  had  inherited  from  their  father,  which 
was  a  freak  growth  of  an  inch-wide  streak  of  white  hair 
which  started  from  the  center  of  their  heads  and  continued 
downwards  to  the  base  of  their  skulls,  and  which  as  it 
showed  plainly  in  their  black  hair  made  this  strange  birth¬ 
mark  all  the  more  conspicuous.  Otherwise  they  were 
mentally,  morally  and  physically  perfect,  and  while  I  was 
convalescing  I  often  stood  by  the  window  and  watched  them 
at  play  in  the  snow  and  it  caused  me  to  shudder  every  time 
I  heard  those  youngsters  shout  with  glee  while  they  en¬ 
joyed  the  winter’s  sports,  when  I  thought  of  poor  Peoria 
Red  whom  this  same  merciless  snow  helped  to  murder. 

In  the  evenings  after  supper  had  been  served,  I  could 
see  from  the  bunk  house  window  how  baby  Helen  in  her 
sleeping  room  across  the  road  in  the  section  house  knelt  and 
humbly  repeated  her  evening  prayer,  and  then  just  before 
she  was  put  to  rest  for  the  night,  her  father  would  kiss  her 
“good-night”,  and  as  soon  as  he  had  left  the  room  her 
sweet-faced  mother  would  smother  her  with  kisses  before 
she  tucked  her  darling  between  the  spotless  sheets  of  her 
cradle,  and  many  were  the  times  that  I  turned  away  from 
this  picture  of  perfect  domestic  happiness  as  tears  were 
welling  into  my  eyes,  for  I  realized  that  I  had  missed  that 
which  is  most  sublime  in  all  creation  : 

A  loving  wife  and  devoted  mother;  a  healthy  baby 
and  one’s  own  “Home,  sweet  Home.” 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 

CHAPTER  III. 


13 


“The  Wreck.’’ 

Gradually  I  regained  the  use  of  my  one-time  totally 
frozen  limbs,  and  when  I  felt  myself  able  to  do  the  se¬ 
vere  labor  required  of  men  who  toil  upon  a  railroad 
section  to  earn  their  daily  bread,  I  begged  Foreman  McDon¬ 
ald  to  allov/  me  to  work  with  his  crew.  I  explained  to  him 
that  this  would  be  the  greatest  favor  he  could  do  for  me,  who 
found  himself  marooned  many  hundreds  of  miles  from  a 
city,  without  a  job  and  penniless,  in  the  midst  of  a  bleak, 
snow-buried  prairie.  I  also  argued  with  him  that  to  give 
me  employment  would  be  the  easiest  means  for  me  to  dis¬ 
charge  my  debt  to  him,  which,  although  he  absolutely 
refused  to  listen  to  any  talk  of  indebtedness  on  my  part, 
amounted  to  a  tidy  sum.  He  finally  consented,  and  I 
commenced  my  task,  fully  equipped  with  warm  clothes 
that  were  generously  donated  to  me  by  my  fellow  laborers. 

The  first  time  the  pay-car  stopped  and  the  paymaster 
handed  me  my  envelope  I  repaid  Foreman  McDonald 
every  cent  I  owed  him,  and  although  this  settled  my  finan¬ 
cial  indebtedness  to  him,  the  debt  I  owe  him  to  this  day  for 
his  timely  help  can  never  be  repaid  with  mere  coin. 

One  other  time  the  pay-car  stopped,  and  then  the  glad 
holidays  of  Christmas  approached,  and  when  the  happy 
Yule-tide  was  just  a  week  away,  Foreman  McDonald 
procured  for  each  laborer  a  return  pass  to  St.  Paul.  We 
went  and  made  our  Christmas  purchases  and  returned  after 
an  absence  of  three  days,  each  of  us  staggering  under  the 
weight  of  a  heavily-laden  sack  which  we  carried  slung  over 
our  backs,  from  the  train  into  the  bunk  house. 

Every  spare  minute  until  Christmas  Eve  there  was  a 
myscerious  activity  within  the  crowded  space  of  the  small 
bunk  house.  We  were  not  only  busy  sorting  over  the 
purchases  we  had  made  in  the  big  cities,  which  included  a 
suitable  present  for  each  one  of  our  foreman’s  family  down 
to  baby  Helen,  and  one  for  each  of  the  laborers,  but  we 


14 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp, 


were  kept  busy  keeping  the  youngsters  from  prying  into 
the  secrets  which  we  did  not  wish  to  be  revealed  to  them 
until  Christmas  Eve. 

One  of  us  had  smuggled  in  a  small  Christmas  tree, 
while  another  one  had  purchased  the  long  whiskers  that 
always  go  with  a  genuine  “Santa  Claus”,  so  dear  to  the 
hearts  of  the  children. 

At  last  the  natal  feast  of  the  Savior  arrived,  and  to  the 
complete  surprise  and  delight  of  the  McDonald  family, 
we  marched  over  to  the  foreman’s  home,  led  by  old  “Santa 
Claus”,  W'ho  in  all  his  glory  of  a  fur  cap,  long  white  hair  and 
snowy  whiskers,  carried  a  wondrously  decorated  Christmas 
tree.  We  were  royally  welcomed,  and  after  the  Christ¬ 
mas  tree’s  colored  candles  had  been  lighted  and  our 
presents  had  been  distributed,  we  received  those  which 
had  been  purchased  for  us  by  the  foreman  and  his  thought¬ 
ful  wife.  Amidst  the  shouts  of  glee  of  the  youngsters,  and 
especially  of  Baby  Helen,  the  hours  flew  past  only  too  soon. 
The  time  cam.e  for  her  to  be  put  to  bed,  and  the  moment 
arrived  for  our  departure,  but  just  before  we  went,  the 
stern  overseer  of  our  w  ork  descended  to  the  level  of  a  sat¬ 
isfied  father,  and  proudly  permitted  each  one  of  us  to  kiss 
his  baby  s  forehead,  a  most  signal  honor  considering  cir¬ 
cumstances.  As  we  were  returning  to  our  bunk  house,  he 
called  from  tee  porch  of  the  section  house,  reminding  us 
to  be  sure  to  be  in  proper  shape  on  the  coming  day  to 
enjoy  the  best  Christmas  dinner  that  his  wife,  who  was  a 
very  good  cook,  had  ever  placed  before  guests. 

No  sooner  had  w^e  entered  our  bunk  house  than  we 
threw  off  all  the  restraint  of  etiquette  which  we  had  to 
observe  at  the  “big”  house,  and  quickly  had  a  roar¬ 
ing  fire  in  our  stove,  and  while  out  of  doors  another 
blizzard  was  playing  a  tattoo  upon  the  telegraph 
wires  and  was  piling  tons  of  snow  upon  the  right 
of  way,  we  had  brewing  in  a  pot  upon  the  stove  some¬ 
thing  that  is  not  altogether  in  accordance  with  the  tenets 
of  temperance,  but  which  meant  additional  cheer  to  us, 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


15 


whose  thoughts  were  ever  and  anon  slipping  back  to  those 
days  when  we  spent  happy  Christmas  Eve’s  in  very  different 
surroundings.  It  was  a  curious  fact,  that  although  we 
celebrated  till  into  the  wee,  small  hours  of  the  morning, 
v/hen  the  first  one  of  us  crawled  into  his  bunk  it  was  only 
a  few  minutes  until  all  of  us  had  follow^ed  his  example.  We 
seemed  to  hate  to  be  left  alone. 

About  daybreak  a  loud  pounding  upon  the  door  of  our 
bunk  house  aroused  us  from  our  slumbers,  and  while  we 
rubbed  the  drowsiness  out  of  our  eyes  we  heard  Foreman 
McDonald  calling  to  us  to  make  haste,  as  a  wrecking  train 
was  waiting  to  take  us  up  the  line  to  clear  away  a  bad 
wweck. 

It  took  little  time  for  us  to  slip  into  our  clothes,  rush 
to  the  tool  house  and  throw  our  track  implements  aboard 
the  wrecker,  and  then  climb  into  the  coaches  provided  for 
our  accommodation,  in  which  were  other  section  crews  w’ho 
had  been  picked  up  below  us,  and  into  which  were  loaded 
those  for  whom  we  stopped  west  of  our  reservation. 

We  had  the  right-of-track  over  every  other  train  upon 
the  line,  and  with  six  powerful  engines  pushing  a  snow-plow 
at  full  speed  ahead  of  us,  we  reached  our  destination  in 
almost  record  time,  where  we  were  put  to  work  clearing 
away  a  serious  wreck,  which  had  been  caused  by  a  heavy 
passenger  train  running  into  a  snow  drift  during  a  blinding 
blizzard,  and  having  at  the  same  time  been  derailed  from 
the  tender  back  to  the  rear  truck  beneath  the  last  sleeper. 
For  three  days  and  nights  we  worked  like  beavers,  taking 
turns  in  eight  hour  shifts,  sleeping  and  dining  in  the  “bunk” 
cars  attached  to  the  wrecking  train,  shoveling  away  the 
solidly  packed  snow,  “jacking”  up  the  coaches,  one  at  a 
time,  and  replacing  the  trucks  upon  the  rails,  and  in  the 
afternoon  of  the  third  day  our  combined  efforts  were  re¬ 
warded,  for  amid  the  gladsome  whistling  of  its  engine  the 
released  train  resumed  its  interrupted,  eastbound  journey. 

We  laborers  Vv^ere  detained  an  additional  day  remov¬ 
ing  the  wreckage,  reloading  the  apparatus  used  and  putting 


16 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


everything  into  a  first-class  condition  for  the  resumption 
of  the  regular  schedule.  Then  we  boarded  the  wrecker 
to  be  distributed  along  the  line. 

The  wrecking  train’s  speed  rapidly  closed  the  gap  of 
miles  separating  us  from  our  reservation,  and  when  at  last — 
at  about  supper  time — we  entered  upon  our  own  section, 
we  noted  a  satisfied  sparkle  in  Foreman  McDonald’s  eyes, 
when  the  cars,  which  had  heretofore  been  lurching  like 
ships  at  sea,  spun  with  hardly  a  perceivable  motion  over  the 
well  attended  road  bed.  Now  the  whistle  blew  for  our 
section  house;  the  brakes  gripped  the  flanges  of  the  wheels, 
and  we  gathered  our  belongings  so  as  not  to  unnecessarily 
delay  the  others,  and  when  the  train  stopped  we  soon  had 
our  track  tools  piled  in  front  of  our  tool  house.  Then  the 
wrecking  train  continued  its  journey,  and  while  we  stored 
our  tools  away  we  noted  the  disappointed  look  in  our  fore¬ 
man’s  face  when  neither  his  wife  nor  any  of  his  children 
came  to  greet  him,  or  at  least  inquire  as  to  the  extent 
of  the  wreck,  a  most  interesting  item  of  gossip,  considering 
the  lonely  location  of  our  reservation. 

When  we  had  finished  our  task  and  the  foreman  had 
carefully  locked  the  tool  house,  and  while  he  walked  towards 
the  “big”  house  where  not  yet  a  single  soul  had  opened  the 
door  to  give  him  the  usual  glad  greeting,  although  by  the 
lamp  that  was  illuminating  the  parlor  we  could  see  Mrs. 
McDonald  and  her  children  sitting  about  the  heater,  we 
hustled  over  to  the  bunk  house,  in  which  we  quickly  kindled 
a  fire  and  then  brought  order  out  of  the  chaos  we  had  left 
behind  when  we  had  been  so  unexpectedly  called  away  to 
clear  the  track. 

While  we  were  thus  busily  engaged,  our  work  was 
suddenly  interrupted  by  several  almost  demoniacal 
shrieks  that  seemed  to  belong  to  Hades,  and  as  if 
driven  by  some  common  impulse,  we  rushed  pell 
mell  out  of  doors  and  towards  the  “big”  house.  But 
before  we  could  even  reach  it,  we  stopped  short  as  if  rooted 
into  the  ground,  for  there  upon  the  front  porch,  with  his 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


17 


me  back  my  baby!  Merciful  Father,  do  not  punish 
me  so  cruelly  as  this!” 


18 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


face  uplifted  towards  the  starry  firmament  above  him, 
stood  Foreman  McDonald,  tearing  like  a  raving  maniac 
at  the  hairs  of  his  head,  while  through  the  quietude  of  the 
night  reverberated  his  heart-rending  shrieks:  “Oh  God! 
Give  me  back  my  baby!  Bring  back  my  darling  Helen! 
Merciful  Father,  do  not  punish  me  so  cruelly  as  this!” 

While  we  stood  there  wondering  as  to  the  causes  of 
Foreman  McDonald’s  strange  pleading,  his  wife,  pale  as 
the  snow,  came  from  around  the  rear  of  the  section  house 
and  begged  us  to  take  hold  of  Mr.  McDonald  to  prevent 
him  from  harming  himself,  and  when  at  this  moment  we 
saw  the  strong  man  sink  into  a  corner  of  the  porch  and 
commence  to  pray  aloud,  we  made  a  rush  and  after  we  took 
hold  of  him  it  required  every  bit  of  strength  we  six  husky 
men  could  muster  to  restrain  and  drag  him  into  the  section 
house,  where  we  stretched  and  tied  him  upon  his  bed  and 
gave  him  narcotics  that  caused  him  to  fall  into  a  deep  slum¬ 
ber. 


While  we  sat  about  his  bed  watching  his  every  move, 
poor  Mrs.  McDonald  repeated  to  us,  amid  heart-racking 
sobs,  the  dire  calamity  that  had  overtaken  her  happy 
family  since  our  departure.  That  Helen,  the  pet  of  the 
family  and  of  the  rough  section  men,  had  disappeared  from 
her  home,  leaving  not  a  trace.  Further  questioning  elicited 
from  the  distracted  mother  this  information: 

The  blizzard  had  given  way  to  a  perfectly  calm  after¬ 
noon,  and  after  they  had  enjoyed  their  Christmas  dinners, 
Mrs.  McDonald  had  watched  Helen  toddle  behind  her 
brothers  to  where  the  passing  siding  turned  away  from  the 
main  line,  permitting  a  small  pond  to  form,  which,  being 
smooth  as  glass  and  swept  clear  of  snow  by  the  storm, 
offered  a  splendid  opportunity  to  try  out  their  new  skates, 
which  they  had  received  amongst  their  presents. 

^  The  youngsters  were  altogether  too  busy  enjoying 
their  rare  sport  to  pay  heed  to  their  baby  sister,  and  when 
darkness  approached  they  scampered  back  to  the  house 
where  they  told  their  mother  of  the  good  time  they  had  had. 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp, 


19 


Her  first  question,  however,  was  concerning  the  where¬ 
abouts  of  little  Helen,  as  she  quickly  noted  her  absence 
from  the  returning  children.  “Boys,  where  have  you  left 
your  little  sister?’'  “Why,  mother,’’  readily  replied  Donald, 
her  eldest  son,  “Helen  must  have  been  back  to  the  house 
long  ago,  as  we  have  not  seen  her  since  she  watched  us  put 
on  our  new  skates.” 

Tormented  by  a  mother’s  instinct  which  told  her  that 
all  was  not  well  with  her  child,  Mrs.  McDonald,  assisted 
by  her  sons,  made  a  thorough  search  of  the  house,  thinking 
that  perhaps  the  baby  might  have  toddled  back  to  its 
home,  tired  of  watching  her  brothers  skate  upon  the  pond, 
and  had,  unobserved  by  her  mother,  entered  one  of  the 
bed  rooms  and  gone  to  sleep.  Carefully  she  looked  through 
every  room  and  then  she  searched  the  whole  building  from 
cellar  to  garret,  all  the  while  loudly  calling  for  her  missing 
darling,  but  the  search  proved  futile. 

Then  she  lit  lanterns,  one  for  herself  and  one  for  each 
of  her  boys,  and  together  they  searched  through  the  bunk 
house,  the  tool  house  and  every  other  out-building  on  the 
reservation,  but  all  their  hunting  was  of  no  avail,  as  they 
found  no  trace  of  the  child. 

Up  and  down  the  right-of-way  they  searched,  hoping 
to  find  the  tracks  in  the  soft  snow  showing  the  direction  the 
tot  might  have  taken,  but  every  effort  was  in  vain,  and  they 
had  almost  reached  the  garden  gate  of  the  house,  all  of 
them  broken-heartedly  weeping,  having  given  up  all  hope 
of  ever  hearing  again  of  their  Helen,  when  “Spot”,  the 
shepherd  dog,  the  playmate  of  the  children,  came  racing 
towards  them,  swinging  a  rag,  that  he  held  between  his 
sharp  teeth,  playfully  about  his  head.  He  had  been 
awakened  by  his  mistress’s  calls  for  her  child,  and  the 
lighted  lanterns  they  carried  had  fooled  the  intelligent 
canine  into  reasoning  that  this  was  to  be  a  prolongation  of 
the  Christmas  festivities  of  the  preceding  night,  and  he  had 
promptly  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  game. 

Mrs.  McDonald  called  the  dog  to  her  side,  and  ex- 


20 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


amined  the  supposed  rag  the  beast  had  played  with,  and 
found  it  to  be  the  first  clue  that  she  had  thus  far  discovered, 
as  it  was  little  Helen’s  red  flannel  undergarment.  Reeling 
but  upheld  by  the  thought  that  she  might  not  yet  be  too 
late,  poor  Mrs,  McDonald  ordered  her  boys  to  take  se¬ 
curely  hold  of  Spot,  and  then  she  ran  as  fast  as  her  fright 
and  weakened  feet  would  carry  her,  to  the  dog’s  house,  but 
its  interior  and  the  usual  slim  appearance  of  the  watch  dog, 
disproved  the  terrible  notion  which  had  caused  her  to  make 
the  hasty  trip,  that  Spot  had  made  a  meal  of  her  baby. 
Grateful  from  the  bottom  of  her  heart  for  even  this  small 
relief  in  her  terrible  perdicament,  she  rejoined  her  boys, 
and  as  sort  of  forlorn  hope,  she  rubbed  Helen’s  tiny  garment 
against  the  dog’s  nose,  and  ordered  the  collie  to  go  and 
find  the  missing  child. 

The  intelligent  animal  seemed  to  understand  what  was 
demanded  of  him,  for  presently,  whining  as  if  to  appeal  to 
them  to  go  with  him,  he  rushed  forward,  and  as  they  fol¬ 
lowed  he  led  them  to  the  pond, then  across  the  tracks  where 
he  stopped  by  a  small  pile  of  clothes,  which  proved  to  be 
every  stitch  of  little  Helen’s  garments — shoes,  stockings 
and  all,  with  the  sole  exception  of  a  tiny  gold  locket  con¬ 
taining  her  parents’  pictures,  which  Mrs.  McDonald  had 
hung  by  its  gold  chain  around  the  baby’s  neck,  and  the  red 
flannel  garment  that  the  dog  had  brought  to  their  atten¬ 
tion,  no  doubt  considering  it  a  most  welcome  plaything. 

Back  to  the  section  house  she  dragged  herself  carry¬ 
ing  the  tiny  garments.  Arriving  there,  she  carefully 
questioned  the  boys  and  brought  out  only  one  more  useless 
item,  that  a  westbound  immigrant  train  had  pulled  into 
the  siding  to  permit  an  eastbound  passenger  train  to  pass 
them. 

For  four  seemingly  endless  days  the  poor  mother  with 
her  three  small  boys  helplessly  waited  for  someone  to  assist 
her,  her  husband  and  all  the  other  men  having  gone  to  the 
wreck.  Telephones  were  unknown  in  those  days,  and  with 
no  strong  hands  to  pump  the  heavy  hand  car  through  the 


TJie  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


21 


foot-high  snow  that  now  covered  the  track,  there  was  noth¬ 
ing  else  to  do  but  to  hope,  as  she  did  not  dare  send  one  of 
her  sons  to  the  nearest  village,  not  knowing  at  what  moment 
a  blizzard  might  add  another  calamity  to  her  burden  of 
woe.  In  all  those  long  days,  until  the  released  passenger 
train  flew  past,  not  a  single  train  passed  up  or  down  the  line, 
so  all  she  and  her  children  could  do  was  to  weep  and  wait 
for  her  husband’s  return,  to  whom  she  then  told  all  the 
circumstances  of  the  child’s  disappearance,  which  affected 
him  far  more  than  she  thought  it  would  be  possible. 

After  she  had  finished  her  sad  story  she  asked  us  to 
give  her  our  opinion  as  to  the  cause  of  the  baby’s 
disappearance.  One  of  our  men  had  the  most  likely 
solution  of  the  riddle  as  he  thought  that  the 
baby  had  watched  her  brothers  discard  their 
overcoats,  and  later  their  coats,  as  the  exercise  while  skat¬ 
ing  warmed  them,  and  Helen,  childlike,  thinking  this  the 
proper  thing,  had  in  a  playful  mood  discarded  her  clothes, 
intending  to  skate  barefooted  upon  the  glistening  ice,  and 
finding  that  the  cold  snow  hurt  her  feet,  and  being  unable 
to  don  her  garments,  had  wandered  out  upon  the  bleak 
prairie  and  had  been  frozen  to  death,  the  fate  that  had 
overtaken  Peoria  Red  and  so  many  strong  men. 

Leaving  one  man  to  act  as  nurse  to  the  foreman,  we 
others  returned  to  the  bunk  house,  as  Mr.  McDonald’s 
heavy  and  regular  breathing  assured  us  that  he  would  at 
least  rest  peacefully  until  the  following  morning. 

For  several  days,  undaunted  by  constant  failures  to 
accomplish  anything,  we  carefully  searched  the  right  of 
way  and  the  prairie  for  our  pet,  and  had  Spot,  the  collie, 
assist  us,  but  finally  were  forced  to  believe  that  little  Helen 
had  departed  for  the  land  of  the  Angels. 

In  the  evenings,  to  while  away  the  hours  and  to  be  in 
readiness  when  in  the  Spring  the  warm  rays  of  the  sun 
would  remove  the  snowy  shroud  and  reveal  to  us  her  mortal 
remains,  we  constructed  a  small  coffin,  that  we  carefully 
painted  a  somber  black,  and  we  also  whittled  another 


22  The  Trail  of  the  Tramp, 

white  cross,  which  should  in  due  time  mark  her  eternal 
resting  place. 

For  weeks  Foreman  McDonald  raved  in  a  high  fevered 
delirium,  but  gradually,  assisted  by  the  railroad  company’s 
physician,  who  made  frequent  calls  at  the  section  house, 
and  the  loving  aid  and  attention  of  his  ever  faithful  wife, 
he  rallied  so  far  that  he  again  became  able  to  take  us  out 
on  the  track  and  personally  direct  our  work. 

Night  after  night,  for  months  after  her  disappearance^ 
when  our  supper  had  been  served  at  the  big  house,  and  we 
had  returned  to  the  bunk  house  and  had  blown  out  the 
lamp  before  retiring,  the  stern  foreman,  now  only  a  broken 
hearted  father,  yearning  for  his  own  sweet  baby  girl,  would 
slip  noiselessly,  and  he  thought  unobserved,  out  of  the 
front  door  of  the  section  house,  and  slink  stealthily  to  the 
very  spot  where  his  darling’s  tiny  garments  had  been  found, 
and  there  amid  heart-rending  shrieks,  which  we  in  our 
bunk  house  could  plainly  hear  above  the  weird  meanings 
of  the  winter  storms,  he  would  dig  with  his  bare  hands  deep 
into  the  cruel  snow,  searching  for  his  lost  baby — his  own 
little  Helen. 


He  would  dig  with  his  bare  hands  deep  into  the  cruel  snow,  searching 
for  his  lost  baby — ^his  own  little  Helen. 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


23 


As  Spring  approached  the  warming  rays  of  the  sun 
finally  conquered  the  thick  snow  blanket  that  covered  the 
landscape,  and  led  by  our  foreman  we  carefully  searched 
the  prairie,  praying  to  be  permitted  to  give  at  least  a  human 
burial  to  his  daughter’s  earthly  remains,  but  it  nearly 
wrecked  his  mind  when  even  this  privilege  was  denied  him, 
as  we  found  not  a  trace  of  the  child. 

Then,  hoping  to  lighten  somewhat  the  fearful  burden 
of  woe  borne  by  her  parents,  we  placed  those  last  mementos 
of  her  brief  visit  upon  earth  into  the  little  black  coffin  that 
we  had  constructed,  and  gave  the  baby’s  garments  a  solemn 
burial  alongside  the  mound  of  my  partner,  Peoria  Red, 
and  above  the  new  mound  we  erected  the  other  white 
cross  to  keep  company  with  the  first  one,  and  tell  its 
silent  story  to  the  passengers  who  flew  past  aboard  swift 
trains,  that  two  pitiful  tragedies  had  been  enacted  at  this 
lone  section  reservation  within  the  short  span  of  a  few 
months. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


“The  Drifter”. 


And  Spring  came  back  to  the  Northland.  The  trees  and 
bushes  commenced  to  bud.  As  if  by  magic  the  brown 
winter  tints  of  the  water  and  frost  bogged  prairie  were 
transformed  into  a  daintily  colored  green  carpet  by  the 
sprouts  that  the  slumbering  grasses  sent  forth  into  the 
balmy  air,  while  here  and  there  a  venturesome  flower  spread 
its  multi-colored  petals  towards  the  warming  rays  of  the 
sun,  and  lastly  the  song  birds,  the  infallible  sign  of  nature’s 
complete  resurrection,  came  home  from  the  Southland  and 


24 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


rebuilt  their  storm-torn  nests  amid  the  warbling  of  gladsome 
notes,  their  jubilee  song  of  happiness  and  satisfaction. 

With  these  signs  of  the  re-awakening  of  Nature 
there  came  to  me  the  strange  “Call  of  the  Road”.  Hereto¬ 
fore  it  had  never  come  as  strongly  as  it  came  at  this  time, 
when  after  a  long  and  monotonous  winter’s  toil  the  rattling 
trains  as  they  shot  over  our  section,  the  darting  birds  as 
they  foraged  their  subsistence,  and  even  the  thumping  of 
the  wheels  under  our  hand  car  seemed  to  beckon  me  to 
follow  their  example  and  move  away.  Although  I  tried 
with  might  and  main  to  resist  its  call,  gradually  the  bunk 
house  became  a  dungeon,  the  endless  prairie  a  prison,  and 
the  Dakotas  themselves  became  entirely  too  small  to  hold 
me,  and  when  the  pay  car  stopped  to  hand  me  my  month’s 
wages,  I  could  no  longer  withstand  the  temptation  to 
follow  the  “Call  of  the  Road”  and  be  up  and  gone.  It  was 
a  hard  matter  for  me  to  bid  Foreman  McDonald  and  his 
family  farewell,  and  the  last  promise  I  made  before  I  left 
was,  that  should  circumstances  permit  I  would  find  my 
way  back  in  the  fall  to  again  take  my  place  with  the  sec¬ 
tion  crew,  that  until  then  would  be  held  open  for  my  return. 

I  drifted  to  Saint  Paul  and  then  down  to  hustling  St. 
Louis,  and  from  there  to  beautiful  San  Antonio,  and  when 
the  binders  cut  wide  swaths  into  the  ripening,  top-heavy, 
golden  grain  on  the  banks  of  the  Rio  Grande,  I  found 
myself  back  in  my  chosen  element,  toiling  long  hours  during 
the  day  in  the  harvest  field,  and  then  until  way  into  the 
night  dancing  the  fantastic  fandango  with  dark  eyed 
Mexican  Senoritas,  to  the  accompaniment  of  twanging 
guitars  and  squeaking  mouth  organs,  and  staking  my  come- 
easy,  p-easy  earnings  against  the  “Monte”  layouts  dealt 
by  swift-handed  Mexican  Senores,  who  had  crossed  the 
river  from  the  Mexican  side  for  the  double  purpose  of  help- 
ing  to^ harvest  the  wheat  and  trimming,  by  means  of  “sure 
thing  games,  the  American  harvesters. 

Then  came  the  harvest  dance,  the  festival  which  in¬ 
dicated  that  upon  the  ranch  the  harvest  had  been  finished, 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


25 


and  that  I  was  no  longer  wanted.  So  I  drifted  northward, 
following  the  ripening  wheat,  ever  toiling,  ever  squandering, 
and  always  attending  the  harvest  dance  which  celebrated 
my  exit. 

When  the  inclement  weather  set  in,  for  want  of  some¬ 
thing  better  to  do,  I  drifted  back  towards  the  lone  prairie 
section  reservation  to  take  my  place  in  the  ranks  of  those 
who  tamp  the  ties  and  tighten  the  “fish-plates,”  which  hold 
the  rails  together. 

I  had  hoboed  a  freight  train  as  far  as  the  water  tank,  that 
stood  a  scant  six  miles  east  of  the  section  reservation,  and 
now  I  walked  leisurely  through  familiar  scenery  towards 
my  former  winter  home,  hoping  every  minute  to  surprise 
Foreman  McDonald  and  his  crew  at  work  on  the  track. 
That  day,  however,  they  happened  to  be  repairing  on  the 
other  end  of  the  section,  so  I  managed  to  slip  unobserved  up 
to  the  front  door  of  the  “big”  house,  where  intending  to  sur¬ 
prise  Mrs.  McDonald  by  my  unexpected  return,  I  knocked 
on  the  front  door.  To  our  mutual  delight  Mrs.  McDonald 
opened  the  door,  and  after  giving  me  a  glad  welcome, 
asked  me  into  the  house.  She  soon  had  one  of  her  best 
'  meals  steaming  in  front  of  me,  having  correctly  surmised 

j  that  a  man  riding  freight  trains  and  walking  six  miles, 

i  needed  a  hearty  repast.  Although  I  v/as  more  than  anxious 
to  inquire  about  many  items  of  interest,  especially  if  my 
long  journey  had  not  been  made  in  vain,  as  my  place  might 
have  been  filled  by  some  other  fellow  in  search  of  employ¬ 
ment,  she  seemed  to  completely  ignore  my  presence,  for 
she  was  only  in  the  dining  room  during  the  brief  moments 
when  she  placed  the  filled  plates  upon  the  table. 

I  finished  my  dinner,  and  then,  uninvited  by  Mrs. 
McDonald,  but  just  as  she  had  taught  me  a  year  ago,  when 
I  helped  her  to  do  the  chores  about  the  house  while  convales¬ 
cing  from  my  freezing  experience,  I  carried  the  soiled  dishes 
into  the  kitchen.  Noticing  that  she  was  still  in  full  mourn¬ 
ing,  I  made  careful  inquiries  as  to  whether  any  trace  had 
been  found  of  the  missing  child  during  my  absence,  to  which 


26 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


she  sadly  replied  that  nothing  had  ever  become  of  the  land¬ 
wide  search  that  had  been  made.  Her  apparent  reticence 
caused  my  curiosity  to  mount  high,  and  I  followed  up  my 
question  by  pleasantly  inquiring  as  to  Foreman  McDonald’s 
present  state  of  health.  She  looked  at  me  with  an  expres¬ 
sion  of  terror  in  her  eyes,  as  if  my  words  had  stabbed  her 
to  her  heart,  but  did  not  answer,  and  a  moment  later  she 
could  not  answer  had  she  wanted  to,  for  heart-broken  sobs 
choked  her  voice,  but  she  beckoned  to  me  to  follow  her  to 
the  front  porch  and  there  she  pointed  her  trembling  finger 
in  the  direction  where  they  had  buried  my  pal,  Peoria  Red, 
and  there  I  could  plainly  see  three  small,  white  crosses. 
Steeled  by  the  many  other  woes  that  she  had  during  a  long 
and  dreary  year  borne  with  fortitude,  she  temporarily 
overcame  her  weakness,  and  with  a  clear  voice  she  counted : 
"One,  two,  three,”  and  then  the  poor  woman  paused,  it 
seemed  the  strain  had  almost  been  too  much  for  her,  and 
then  in  a  faltering,  almost  inaudible  voice  she  continued: 
"Peoria  Red,  Helen  McDonald,  Henry  McDonald,”  and 
then  collapsed. 

I  carried  her  limp,  unconscious  form  into  the  parlor,  and 
after  some  efforts  managed  to  bring  her  out  of  the  faint, 
and  when  she  had  fully  recovered  so  as  to  withstand  the 
ordeal,  she  slowly  repeated  to  me  the  story  of  her  summer’s 
experience,  how  Foreman  McDonald,  unable  to  be  without 
his  Helen,  had  wasted  to  a  shadow  of  his  former  self ;  and 
in  August  had  died  of  a  broken  heart,  and  how  only  the 
thoughts  that  upon  her  own  frail  self  had  now  devolved  the 
duty  to  provide  for  their  three  small  sons  had  given  her 
the  strength  to  resolve  not  to  succumb  to  a  like  fate.  Her 
voice  brightened  when  she  told  me  that  in  all  her  misery 
there  had  come  one  tiny  streak  of  good  fortune  to  her,  a 
poor,  helpless  widow  cast  upon  the  mercy  of  the  world 
with  three  children.  The  new  section  foreman,  whom  the 
company  had  sent  to  fill  the  vacancy  caused  by  Mr.  McDon¬ 
ald  s  death,  proved  to  be  a  crusty,  old  bachelor  of  perhaps 
sixty-five  who  no  doubt  appreciating  a  few  extra  comforts 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


27 


at  his  age,  gladly  consented  to  have  Mrs.  McDonald  re¬ 
main  and  continue  taking  charge  of  the  section  house,  and 
the  boarding  crew,  in  return  for  a  small  stipend  and  a 
shelter  for  herself  and  her  fatherless  children. 

When  in  the  evening  the  new  foreman  and  the  crew 
came  home  from  their  work,  Mrs.  McDonald  spoke  a  word 
in  my  favor,  and  although  there  was  no  need  of  an  additional 
laborer,  the  new  foreman,  after  he  had  heard  my  story, 
engaged  my  services. 

Until  the  thawing  of  the  snow  I  faithfully  worked  upon 
the  section,  but  when  Spring  again  set  in  with  full  force, 
there  came  another  attack  of  the  strange  fever  that  drove 
me  onward  every  year,  and  following  the  ‘'Call  of  the 
Wanderlust”,  I  left  for  the  South,  having  again  promised 
that  with  the  approach  of  winter  I  would  be  on  hand  to  fill 
my  place  with  the  section  crew. 

I  drifted  along  with  the  harvest,  but  after  the  wintry 
storms  that  swept  over  the  endless  expanse  of  the  plains 
had  twisted  off  the  last  leaves  which  the  autumn  had  bur¬ 
nished  to  a  fiery  red,  and  the  nights  became  too  chilly  to 
make  out-of-door  camping  a  pleasure,  I  found  my  way  back 
to  my  North  Dakota  section  reservation,  which  I  now  con¬ 
sidered  my  regular  winter  quarters. 

I  arrived  at  the  section  house  almost  at  the  time  when 
the  hand  car  was  due  to  return  for  supper,  and  intending  to 
surprise  Mrs.  McDonald,  knowing  that  in  all  the  world  it 
would  be  the  poor  widow  who  would  give  me,  a  homeless 
harvester,  a  glad  welcome,  I  slipped  almost  noiselessly  up 
to  the  porch  and  knocked  on  the  door,  but  no  answer  came 
to  my  repeated  knocks.  Then  I  tried  to  open  the  door, 
which  during  Foreman  McDonald’s  time  had  never  been 
known  to  be  locked,  and  to  my  surprise  I  found  it  bolted. 
Thinking  that  perhaps  the  widow  had  gone  to  purchase 
provisions,  I  walked  around  to  the  rear  of  the  building  and 
tried  every  door,  but  found  that  all  of  them  were  locked. 
A  miserably  starved  black  cat,  that  made  a  ten  foot  leap 
when  she  first  espied  me,  was  the  only  sign  of  life  on  the 


28 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


place,  while  the  many  rag-stuffed  broken  window  panes 
plainly  indicated  that  great  changes  had  been  made  at  the 
“big”  house  since  my  last  departure.  There  was  something 
uncanny  in  the  silence  about  the  place,  and  a  strange  gloom 
seemed  to  have  settled  over  everyting  that  foreboded  to 
me  only  evil  happenings. 

For  want  of  something  better  I  resolved  to  await 
the  return  of  the  section  crew  from  their  day’s  work,  and 
walked  back  to  the  front  of  the  house  and  took  a  seat  upon 
the  steps.  I  casually  glanced  across  the  tracks  to  where  my 
pal,  Peoria  Red,  was  sleeping  his  eternal  sleep,  and  I  was 
almost  stunned  by  surprise  when  instead  of  the  three 
crosses  which  I  had  left  behind  when  in  the  Spring  I  drifted 
to  the  Southland,  I  counted  five  of  those  ill-omened  mes¬ 
sengers  of  death.  In  vain  I  tried  to  solve  the  riddle  of  these 
added  graves,  and  was  about  to  cross  over  to  the  grave  plot 
beyond  the  tracks,  hoping  to  find  some  inscriptions  upon 
the  new  crosses  that  would  give  me  a  key  to  the  new  trage¬ 
dies  that  I  knew  must  have  caused  their  presence,  when  the 
hand  car  with  the  returning  crew  came  into  view,  and  for¬ 
getting  all  other  matters,  I  walked  down  to  the  tool  house 
to  meet  it  and  was  soon  cordially  welcomed  by  my  old 
comrades  who  had  “held  down”  their  jobs  through  the  hot 
summer  months. 

The  same  foreman,  who  had  taken  Foreman  Mc¬ 
Donald’s  place  was  still  in  charge  of  the  section  reserva¬ 
tion,  and  he  good  naturedly  ordered  the  crew  to  take 
proper  care  of  me  at  the  bunk  house,  where  quickly  a  hot 
supper,  which  the  laborers  cooked  and  served  themselves, 
was  made  ready,  a  welcome  meal  for  a  man  who  had  not 
tasted  a  mouthful  since  the  early  morning. 

After  supper  had  been  cleared  away  and  everything 
had  been  made  snug  about  the  house,  my  chance  came  to 
inquire  why  I  had  found  everything  about  the  reservation 
topsy-turvy,  as  compared  with  former  days,  and  I  especially 
inquired  as  to  the  well-being  and  whereabouts  of  Mrs. 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


29 


I  walked  around  to  the  rear  of  the  building  where  a  miserably  starved  cat,  that  made  a  ten  foot 
leap  when  she  first  espied  me,  was  the  only  sign  of  life  on  the  place. 


30 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


McDonald  and  her  three  youngsters,  and  the  following  is 
the  information  one  of  the  laborers  gave  me. 

Mrs.  McDonald,  with  the  assistance  of  her  three  sons, 
who  had  grown  into  strong  lads,  had  given  to  the  crew  of 
the  section  house  the  same  motherly  care  that  character¬ 
ized  those  days  when  yet  her  husband’s  presence  and  praises 
spurred  her  on  to  make  her  best  efforts.  Kvery  school 
day  she  saw  her  boys  ride  off  to  the  school  house  in  the 
early  morning  upon  ponies  she  had  purchased  for  them,  as 
the  school  was  five  miles  south  from  the  railroad. 

Amid  the  work  of  the  household  and  the  enjoyment  that 
her  three  sturdy  sons  gave  her,  as  they  fairly  adored  their 
mother  and  did  everything  to  cause  her  to  forget  the  sorrow¬ 
ful  past,  gradually  the  deathly  pallor  of  Mrs.  McDonald  s 
face  and  the  lusterless  eyes  with  their  heavy  black  rings 
beneath  them,  gave  way  to  red  cheeks  and  the  same  bril¬ 
liancy  that  were  hers  when  she  was  yet  the  proud  mother 
of  baby  Helen.  Some  days,  especially  when  the  darkness 
had  hidden  those  ominous  crosses  from  her  vision,  she 
would  sing  the  songs  she  used  to  sing  in  the  days  of  her 
happiness,  which  showed  to  us  rough  laborers  the  fight 
this  weak  woman  was  waging  with  herself  trying  to  forget, 
for  the  sake  of  her  sons,  those  many  sad  days  which  had 
been  hers,  so  that  her  mourning  for  things  that  had  been, 
would  not  embitter  their  future. 

Almost  unawares  the  Summer  followed  the  Spring, 
and  soon  came  the  glad  days  for  the  school  children — the 
annual  vacation  of  the  schools — and  the  three  sons  of  Mrs. 
McDonald  came  home  to  rest  from  their  studies.  Gradually 
unrest,  especially  in  Joe  and  Jim,  the  twins,  could  be  noted, 
as  they  found  time  hanging  heavily  upon  their  hands. 
They  begged  the  foreman  to  permit  them  to  work  with  the 
section  crew  during  the  months  of  their  vacation,  but 
as  they  had  not  sufficient  strength  to  do  the  strenuous  work 
required  of  a  section  laborer,  the  foreman  had  to  refuse  their 
request.  Then  they  tried  to  find  employment  amongst 
the  scattered  ranches  which  here  and  there  commenced  to 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


31 


break  the  monotony  of  the  prairie,  but  as  the  planting  had 
been  finished  long  ago,  and  the  harvest  would  not  commence 
until  after  school  had  re-opened,  their  appeals  were  in  vain. 
Then  they  discovered  that  we  had  stacked  a  lot  of  useless, 
decayed  railroad  ties  in  the  backyard  of  the  section  house, 
and  they  reduced  these  into  stove  lengths.  After  this 
j  task  had  been  finished,  despair  seemed  to  have  taken  hold 
'  of  the  boys  as  there  was  nothing  for  them  to  do  to  occupy 
their  time. 

Idleness  breeds  mischief.  One  morning  when  their 
good  mother  wondered  why  Joe  and  Jim  did  not 
show  up  at  the  breakfast  table,  she  sent  Don¬ 
ald,  her  eldest  boy,  upstairs  to  arouse  them.  He 
returned  and  reported  that  they  were  not  in  their  room. 
Her  hasty  investigation  proved  that  they  had  not  only  not 
occupied  their  beds,  and  their  savings  bank  had  been 
emptied  of  its  contents,  but  the  broken-hearted  mother  was 
nearly  frantic  when  she  found  that  her  thoughtless  sons  had 
disappeared  without  leaving  even  a  short  note  apprising 
her  of  their  intentions,  or  at  least  bidding  her  a  brief  fare¬ 
well. 

This  was  the  last  and  most  cruel  blow  an  unkind  fate 
had  inflicted  upon  poor,  suffering  Mrs.  McDonald,  and  it 
was  days  before  they  were  sure  that  she  would  not  succumb. 
In  the  meantime  the  foreman  and  every  other  friend  of  the 
sorrow-stricken  widow  put  every  bit  of  legal  and  police 
.nachinery  they  could  command  into  motion,  trying  to 
find  at  least  a  trace  of  the  twins,  and  although  for  weeks 
they  searched  far  and  wide,  not  a  single  clue  as  to  their 
whereabouts  was  found,  nor  was  a  single  line  or  letter 
i  received  from  them  by  their  mother,  who  prayed  for  weeks 
I  for  this  favor  of  Heaven,  while  at  the  same  time  her  very 
appearance,  her  returned  pallor  and  her  lusterless  eyes  told 
far  better  than  any  words  how  this  last  calamity  was  slowly 
but  none  the  less  certainly  eating  out  her  heart. 

It  was  almost  a  month  after  their  disappearance  that 
the  bereaved,  helpless  and  hopeless  mother  received  her 


32 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


first  clue  as  to  her  sons  whereabouts.  A  freight  train  had 
been  held  up  on  the  siding  on  account  of  a  bad  washout,  and 
the  crew,  finding  itself  short  of  provisions  had  come  up  to 
the  section  house  and  had  requested  Mrs.  McDonald  to 
prepare  for  them  a  meal.  While  they  were  dining,  one  of 
the  brakemen  caused  Mrs.  McDonald  to  fall  into  a  dead 
faint  when  he  in  a  rough  but  jocular  way  remarked  to  her: 
"I  bet  you,  Mrs.  McDonald,  that  your  Joe  and  Jim  are 
having  the  time  of  their  lives  down  in  Minneapolis,  as  I 
haven’t  seen  them  around  the  reservation  since  the  night 
I  found  them  hoboing  my  train  into  Grand  Forks,  although 
our  train  has  passed  through  here  many  times  since  that 
day.  -  They  told  me  then  that  they  were  bound  for  the 
“Twin  Cities”  to  pick  up  a  fortune.  Have  you  heard  from 
them  lately,  Mrs.  McDonald?  Are  they  prospering?” 

The  police  authorities  of  Saint  Paul  and  Minneapolis 
were  notified,  and  although  correspondence  was  exchanged, 
nothing  was  accomplished.  For  two  more  months  Mrs. 
McDonald  waited  in  vain,  hoping  against  hope  that  at 
least  they  would  send  a  letter  to  appease  her  piteous  fears 
as  to  their  fates,  while  in  the  meantime  she  faded  away 
to  a  mere  shadow  of  her  former  self,  and  then  suddenly 
decided  to  quit  the  reservation  forever.  It  seemed  as  if 
she  wished  to  tear  herself  away  from  the  place  which  had 
brought  to  her  such  merciless  misfortune.  She  decided  to 
move  into  Canada,  in  those  days  a  newly  discovered  El¬ 
dorado,  to  which  all  those  turned  who  were  willing  to  work 
and  to  hustle  while  tempting  fickle  fortune. 

On  the  evening  preceding  the  day  Mrs.  McDonald  and 
Donald  were  to  depart,  after  we  had  finished  our  suppers, 
we  presented  her  with  a  purse  of  fifty  dollars,  that  we  had 
made  up  among  ourselves,  as  a  token  of  the  high  esteem 
in  which  we  held  the  unfortuante  woman,  and  too,  to  assist 
and  cheer  her  on  the  journey  into  an  unknown  land.  Then 
we  filed  back  to  our  bunk  house,  and  while  we  sat  about  its 
single  room,  the  gloom  that  seemed  to  hold  us,  spoiled  all 
desire  to  open  a  conversation,  as  the  widow’s  departure 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


33 


meant  the  loss  of  one  who  had  been  almost  a  mother  to  us 
rough  and  homeless  laborers.  Just  as  we  made  ready  to 
retire  someone  knocked  on  the  bunk  house  door,  and 
thinking  that  perhaps  some  wandering  tramp  had  the  nerve 
to  bother  us  at  this  late  hour  in  the  night,  we  roughly  or¬ 
dered  the  intruder  to  be  gone.  Instead  of  going,  the  knocks 
continued,  and  angry  at  the  persistence  of  the  person,  we 
pulled  the  door  open,  and  to  our  complete  surprise  found 
that  it  was  Mrs.  McDonald  who  had  knocked  for  admission. 
Realizing  the  great  honor  she  was  conferring  upon  us,  we 
politely  bade  her  to  enter  and  asked  her  to  be  seated.  She 
was  attired  in  the  dress  in  which  she  intended  to  make  the 
journey  on  the  following  day,  and  its  sombre  black  of  deep¬ 
est  mourning,  aided  by  the  yellow  light  of  our  lamp,  trans¬ 
formed  the  pallor  of  her  haggard  face  into  an  almost  ghastly 
white.  We  patiently  waited  for  her  to  open  the  conversa¬ 
tion,  of  course  expecting  that  she  had  come  to  thank  us 
once  more  for  having  presented  her  with  the  purse.  It 
was  some  time  before  she  could  find  her  voice  and  then 
in  the  saddest  tone  that  we  ever  heard,  she  begged  of  us 
strong  men,  as  the  last  favor  she  would  ever  ask  of  us,  to 
make  for  her  two  more  white  crosses,  the  same  as  stood 
above  the  other  graves,  and  to  deliver  them  to  her  in  the 
early  morning,  and  then,  as  if  this  last  humble  request  had 
completely  shattered  her  nerves,  she  tottered,  an  almost 
lifeless  wreck,  out  into  the  moonlit  night. 

!  None  of  us  uttered  a  single  word,  it  seemed  we  had 
been  stunned  by  the  solemnity  of  the  poor  widow’s  request, 
but  we  opened  the  bunk  house  door  to  see  that  no  harm 
befell  her  upon  her  trip  back  to  the  '‘big”  house.  To  our 
surprise,  instead  of  going  to  the  section  house  she  tottered 
over  to  where  Foreman  McDonald  lay  buried,  and  we  saw 
her  pray  long  and  earnestly  by  the  little  mound  that  held 
I  his  remains;  then  she  arose  and  wearily  dragged  herself 
I  to  the  place  by  the  railroad  track  where  little  Helen's 
j  garments  had  been  found,  and  here  once  more  she  sank 
upon  her  knees  in  prayer,  and  then  staggered  back  towards 


34 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


the  “big”  house,  where,  just  before  she  entered  the  gate 
of  the  fence  surrounding  the  yard,  she  knelt  a  third  time 
to  utter  a  prayer.  While  we  silently  stood  and  watched  and 
pitied  the  poor  broken-hearted  woman,  she  heavily  keeled 
over.  We  rushed  to  her  side  to  give  her  assistance,  and 
found  she  had  fainted  away,  but  in  her  unconsciousness  she 
muttered  the  words  “Joe”  and  “Jim”,  and  we  readily  un¬ 
derstood  for  whom  her  last  farewell  prayer  had  been  offered. 

We  carried  her  into  the  section  house  where  we  revived 
her,  and  then  we  returned  to  the  bunk  house  and  until  late 
into  the  night  sawed,  hammered  and  whittled  those  tv/o 
crude  crosses  into  shape,  supposing  Mrs.  McDonald  intended 
to  take  them  with  her  into  Canada,  to  keep  as  a  memento 
of  her  sad  experiences. 

In  the  morning  after  we  had  been  served  with  break¬ 
fast,  we  handed  her  the  crosses  which  we  had  carefully 
wrapped  in  paper  so  that  upon  her  journey  their  ominous 
outlines  would  not  recall  unpleasant  memories  and  cause 
her  needless  anguish.  Then  we  went  back  to  the  bunk  house 
to  await  the  arrival  of  the  train  and  assist  in  loading  aboard 
the  bagggage  that  Mrs.  McDonald  v/as  to  take  with  her 
into  Canada.  Only  a  few  minutes  had  elapsed,  when  to 
our  surprise,  the  foreman  called  us  to  the  door  and  com¬ 
manded  us  to  follow  him,  Mrs.  McDonald  and  Donald, 
who  carried  the  two  crosses  we  had  made  for  his  mother. 

We  followed  them  to  the  little  graveyard  upon  the 
right-of-way,  and  while  we  stood  by  bareheaded,  frail  Mrs. 
McDonald  planted  the  tv/o  new  crosses  at  equal  distances 
from  the  other  three,  and  we  saw  that  upon  one  of  them  was 
written  “James”  and  upon  the  other  “Joseph.”  After 
she  had  scattered  prairie  flowers  over  all  the  graves,  we 
offered  up  silent  prayers,  and  then  with  not  a  single  dry 
eye  in  our  sad  procession,  we  returned  to  the  reservation. 

In  the  afternoon  we  flagged  the  westbound  passenger 
train,  and  after  wishing  her  God  speed,  we  tenderly  placed 
the  sobbing  widow  and  Donald  aboard,  bound  for  the  then 
little  known  and  undeveloped  western  section  of  Canada, 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


35 


and  when  the  tail  end  of  the  train  passed  us,  a  sportily 
dressed  fellow,  who,  with  other  passengers,  was  sitting 
upon  the  observation  platform  of  the  last  Pullman,  upon 
perceiving  those  plain,  white  crosses,  which  glared  so 
conspicuously  above  the  green  sward  of  the  prairie  to  the 
right  of  the  train,  while  he  pointed  his  finger  derisively 
in  their  direction,  made  some  remarks  to  the  other  pass¬ 
engers,  and  laughed.  He  did  not  know  the  story  of  the 
tragic  events  which  caused  their  presence  nor  that  under 
four  of  the  little  crosses  the  hopes  and  happiness  of  poor 
Mrs.  McDonald  lay  buried. 


CHAPTER  V. 

“The  Call  of  the  City.” 

IT  was  the  "Call  of  the  City”,  the  true  brother  of  that  other 
curse  of  humanity,  the  "Call  of  the  Road”,  that  had  been 
heard  by  Joe  and  Jim.  For  years  previous  to  their 
unannounced  departure  they  had  felt  its  subtle  influence 
when  they  read  about  the  grand  city  in  the  newspapers 
which  were  occasionally  found  upon  the  right-of-way, 
having  been  thrown  there  from  the  passing  trains  by  pas¬ 
sengers  who  had  read  them.  The  "call”  had  also  come  to 
them  while  listening  to  the  stories  of  adventure  among  the 
wonderful  palaces  and  the  sodden  slums  which  comprise 
every  city,  which  were  told  them  by  passing  tramps  as  they 


36 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


stopped  to  rest,  to  ask  for  employment,  or  more  often  to 
beg  food  at  the  section  house.  But  the  strongest  incentive 
of  all  was  the  hoboes,  who  as  they  passed  by  aboard  of 
freight  trains,  with  their  feet  dangling  out  of  open  box  car 
doors  or  hanging  to  the  mail  and  express  cars  of  pas¬ 
senger  trains,  waved  friendly  greetings  to  the  lads,  which 
they  interpreted  as  a  beckoning  to  the  city. 

Except  for  the  rare  instances,  when  the  railroad  com¬ 
pany  transferred  their  father  to  take  charge  of  some  other 
section,  or  the  few  times  when  they  had  made  trips  to  the 
nearest  villages,  which  were  small  and  had  but  few  inhab¬ 
itants,  the  McDonald  boys  had  never  seen  another  world 
except  the  one  whose  boundaries  melted  into  the  endless, 
undulating  prairie  around  their  home. 

Their  parents,  who  were  ever  worrying  about  how  to 
properly  provide  for  their  family,  had — as  nowadays  so 
many  other  parents  do — entirely  overlooked  the  fact  that 
growing  boys  should  be  permitted  to  travel,  even  if  only 
upon  an  excursion,  to  curb  within  them  the  inborn  and 
almost  irresistible  desire  to  roam,  which  all  have  inherited 
from  ancestors,  who  attired  in  wooden  shoes  and  coarse 
apparel,  and  carrying  gunny  sacks,  had  landed  not  so 
many  years  ago  at  Castle  Garden,  after  having  crossed  the 
stormy  Atlantic  in  the  steerage  of  a  sailing  vessel,  and 
who  instead  of  bringing  along  a  fancy  “family  tree”,  had 
brought  with  them  a  pair  of  calloused,  but  willing  hands, 
intending  to  win  with  them  a  way  to  wealth  and  fame,  in 
the  New  World,  for  their  own  humble  selves  and  their 
“proud”  descendants. 

The  “Call  of  the  City”  found  in  the  twins  willing  listen¬ 
ers  as  the  cessation  of  their  school  duties,  the  enforced 
idleness  at  the  reservation,  and  the  monotony  of  their 
existence  became  a  bane  to  them.  They  hearkened  to  the 
call  that  had  already  conquered  a  vast  army  of  other  boys, 
sons  of  those  who  till  the  soil  and  labor  out-of-doors  earn¬ 
ing  a  fair  competence,  which  although  it  demands  hard 
toil,  gives  in  exchange  pure  air,  healthy  food  and  every  com- 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp.  37 

fort  and  luxury  that  willing  hands  backed  by  intelligence 
can  produce. 

For  months  prior  to  their  departure  on  their  trip,  when¬ 
ever  they  could  gallop  beyond  ear  shot  of  their  elder  brother, 
while  riding  to  and  from  school,  and  at  night  when  alone 
in  their  bedroom,  Joe  and  Jim  pictured  to  each  other  the 
grand  future  which  they  thought  every  city  offered  to  them, 
comparing  it  favorably  with  the  drudge  of  the  life  of  mon¬ 
otonous  toil  that  would  be  theirs  at  the  section  reservation. 
They  repeated  the  stories  of  success  they  had  read  in  the 
newspapers,  the  magazines  and  even  in  their  school  books, 
which  told  in  glowing  words  of  poor  lads  who  had  forsaken 
the  country  to  become  rich  and  famous  in  the  cities,  but 
they  never  repeated,  for  they  had  never  read  the  stories 
of  those  unaccountable  numbers  who  had  “moved  to  town” 
and  who  had  been  swallowed  up  by  the  city’s  whirlpool, 
to  become  slaves  of  the  mills  and  the  factories,  serfs  of  the 
bars  and  the  counters,  and  who  had  been  forced  to  toil 
from  dawn  to  dusk  to  barely  eke  out  an  existence  that 
meant  residing  high  up  in  the  simmering,  sweltering  tene¬ 
ments,  or  in  damp,  pest-ridden  basements,  deep  down  in 
the  bowels  of  the  earth,  which  coupled  with  improper  food, 
quickly  reduced  their  vitality,  so  that  although  they  were 
young  in  years,  the  merciless  lash  of  the  city’s  fight  for  a 
living  had  bent  their  backs  and  prematurely  aged  them. 

Joe  and  Jim  realized  that  it  would  have  been  an  im¬ 
possibility  for  them  to  wring  from  their  mother  her  consent 
to  let  them  try  their  luck  in  the  city,  for  since  their  father’s 
death,  they  had  become  her  moral  support.  They  felt 
ashamed  to  be  loafing  idly  about  the  reservation  until 
school  opened  again  and  have  their  widowed  mother  sup¬ 
port  them,  as  they  were  now  sixteen  years  of  age,  and  more 
than  able  to  support  not  only  themselves,  but  could  and 
would  gladly  have  supported  her  had  an  opportunity  been 
offered  them.  The  more  they  argued  the  matter  between 
themselves,  the  more  they  became  resolved  to  journey 
to  some  city,  and  at  least  until  the  time  came  for  them  to 


38 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


be  on  hand  at  school  opening,  make  their  own  way  and 
perhaps  their  fortune,  which  seemed  to  them  within  easy 
reach.  They  had  saved  almost  fifty  dollars,  which  had 
been  earned  running  errands  and  working  as  water-boys 
whenever  an  “extra”  gang  had  been  sent  from  the  division 
point  to  assist  their  father’s  crew  in  putting  in  a  new  cul¬ 
vert,  building  a  new  switch  or  doing  other  heavy  work 
requiring  more  man-power  then  the  reservation  crew  could 
supply.  This  money  was  kept  in  a  small  savings  bank,  to 
which  they  had  easy  access. 

Their  scheming  and  plotting  had  finally  reached  the 
point  where  it  needed  only  the  least  provocation  to  cause 
them  to  skip,  and  this  chance  came  to  them  one  evening 
while  the  section  crew  was  in  their  bunk  house,  and  their 
mother  and  Donald,  whom  they  had  not  taken  into  their 
confidence,  were  busy  in  the  kitchen,  when  a  long,  east- 
bound  freight  train  pulled  in  upon  the  siding  to  let  the  west¬ 
bound  passenger  train  pass  it.  The  boys  were  lounging 
in  the  front  yard  and  as  the  freight  train  slowly  drew  past 
them  they  espied  some  open,  empty  box  cars,  and  as  if 
driven  by  some  strange  impulse,  they  pressed  each  other’s 
hands  and  whispered  that  now  “the  time  had  come,”  and 
then  dashed  up  to  their  room,  emptied  the  savings  bank, 
packed  their  few  necessities  into  small  bundles  and,  care¬ 
fully  avoiding  the  rear  of  the  section  house  where  the  kit¬ 
chen  was  located,  and  keeping  on  the  alert  to  prevent  meet¬ 
ing  or  being  seen  by  any  of  the  section  men  or  train  crew, 
they  ran  down  the  side  of  the  train,  which  was  just  pulling 
out  of  the  siding,  climbed — as  they  had  so  often  seen  hoboes 
do  Into  an  empty  box  car,  and  slinking  back  into  the  dark¬ 
ness  of  its  farthest  corner,  they  were  soon  traveling  beyond 
familiar  landscape.  Gradually  they  became  accustomed 
to  the  jolting  and  rattling  of  their  side-door  Pullman  and 
stretched  themselves  upon  its  hard  floor  and  fell  asleep. 

It  must  have  been  almost  morning  when,  as  they 
stopped  at  the  last  v/ater  tank  west  of  Grand  Forks,  they 
were  aroused  from  their  slumbers  by  the  bright  rays  shed 


The  Trail  of  the  7'ramp 


39 


who  discovered  them  in  the  box  car. 


40 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


by  a  lighted  lantern  held  in  the  hands  of  a  brakeman  who 
roughly  shouted:  “Which  way,  kids?”  “To  Saint  Paul,” 
answered  Joe.  “Got  some  money,  lads,  with  which  you 
can  square  your  ride?”  inquired  the  railroad  man,  as  he 
raised  his  lantern  higher  so  he  could  the  better  estimate  the 
fare  he  could  charge  his  hobo-passengers,  who  had  now 
risen  and  were  rubbing  their  sleep-laden  eyes,  and  then  he 
recognized  the  twins,  whom  he  had  so  often  greeted  from  his 
passing  train,  and  added:  “Well,  I  will  be  danged  if  you 
hoboes  aren’t  Widow  McDonald’s  twins,”  and  then,  after 
he  had  questioned  them  as  to  their  destination,  and  while 
he  withdrew  his  lantern  from  the  door,  he  finished  the  con¬ 
versation  by  excusing  himself:  “It’s  all  right,  my  lads,”  he 
cheerfully  said,  “all  charges  have  been  settled  as  we  brake- 
men  do  not  collect  toll  from  friends.  It’s  the  hoboes  we 
are  after  to  make  them  ‘hit  the  grit’.”  and  with  that  he  was 
gone, 

A  few  hours  later  they  landed  at  Grand  Forks,  N.  D., 
and  by  keeping  close  to  their  side-door  Pullman  they  had 
the  luck  to  reach,  unmolested,  the  outskirts  of  Minneapolis 
on  the  evening  of  the  third  day  after  leaving  their  home. 

When  the  freight  train  slowed  up  to  pull  into  the  rail¬ 
road  yards,  imitating  the  other  hoboes  whom  they  saw 
diving  out  of  all  sorts  of  hiding  places,  they  jumped  to  the 
ground,  scaled  the  right-of-way  fence  and  made  a  bee  line 
for  the  wonder  of  all  wonders,  that  they  had  read,  heard 
and  dreamed  so  much  about — “The  City.” 


41 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp, 

CHAPTER  VI. 

“The  Golden  Rule  Hotel.’’ 

IT  required  some  moments  before  the  boys  became  accus¬ 
tomed  to  the  strange  sights  which  spread  themselves  out 
before  their  wondering  eyes.  The  speed  and  the  clang¬ 
ing  of  the  horse-drawn  street  cars,  the  shouts  of  the  team¬ 
sters,  the  gas  lamps,  which  now  as  darkness  was  approach¬ 
ing  were  lit,  while  the  brilliantly  illuminated  saloons,  the 
gayly  decorated  windows  of  the  stores  and  shops,  in  fact 
everything  seemed  to  them  a  far  different  world  from  the 
one  they  had  just  left  behind  them  upon  the  bleak  prairie. 

They  walked  about  the  streets  until  they  felt  that  they 
must  find  a  shelter  for  the  night,  but  being  afraid  to  accost 
one  of  the  many  strangers  who  rushed  past  them  and  who 
not  even  deigned  to  cast  a  glance  at  the  open-mouthed  lads 
who  marvelled  at  the  people’s  haste  to  be  gone,  they  tackled 
a  gaudily  uniformed  policeman.  “Yes,  my  lads,”  the 
good-natured  guardian  of  the  peace  explained  to  them, 
after  he  had  noted  their  red-bandana  wrapped  bundles 
and  that  their  suits  were  somewhat  the  worse  for  their 
three  days  riding  in  the  box  car,  “you  of  course  do  not  wish 
to  stop  at  the  Windsor,  the  highest  classed  hotel  in  Minne¬ 
apolis,  but  I  think  that  I  know  the  proper  place  for 
you,  it’s  the  ‘Golden  Rule  Hotel’,  the  best  place  in 
our  city  for  lads  like  you.”  And  then  he  directed 
them  so  they  could  easily  find  the  hotel,  and  as  a  parting 
word,  told  them  that  it  was  a  most  reasonably  priced  place, 
as  they  charged  only  fifteen  cents  for  a  night’s  lodging,  and 
then  finished  his  fatherly  advice  by  adding,  that  every  cent 
saved  meant  a  cent  gained. 

They  followed  the  officer’s  instructions,  and  within  a 
short  time  found  the  “Golden  Rule  Hotel”.  They  entered 
its  office,  a  spacious  well-kept  room,  but  the  next  moment 
they  were  almost  frightened  out  of  their  shoes  by  the  loath¬ 
some  sight  which  met  their  eyes,  as  they  found  themselves 
in  the  midst  of  a  lot  of  cursing,  semi-sober  harvesters; 


42 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


crippled,  alcohol-marked  vagrants;  blind  mendicants, 
drunkards  and  blackguards,  in  fact  a  choice  collection  of 
the  most  degraded  specimens  of  Jiumanity. 

James  nudged  Joe  and  whispered:  “Brother  Joe,  this 
is  no  place  for  fellows  like  we  are.  No  place  for  lads  who 
have  come  to  seek  employment.  Let’s  get  out  of  here  as 
quickly  as  we  can  and  hunt  a  different  lodging  house.”  Joe, 
w^ho  acted  as  the  treasurer,  having  in  mind  the  sum  that 
they  could  save  by  stopping  at  a  reasonably-priced  lodging 
place,  calmed  his  brother’s  fears  by  replying:  “Wait  and 
see  what  sort  of  a  place  this  is.  The  company  may  not 
exactly  suit  us,  but  has  not  the  policeman  told  us  that  this 
is  the  best  hotel  in  Minneapolis  for  us,  and  look,  Jim,  doesn’t 
this  office  look  rather  inviting?”  While  they  yet  argued  the 
point,  the  manager  of  the  hotel,  an  oily-faced  fellow,  ac¬ 
costed  them:  “Strangers  in  Minneapolis,  eh?”  he  queried, 
with  utmost  kindness,  while  at  the  same  time  his  shifty 
eyes  scanned  the  country-style  suits  they  wore.  “I  wel¬ 
come  you  to  our  hustling  city,  and  invite  you  to  make  your 
headquarters  at  the  “Golden  Rule  Hotel’  during  your 
stay.”  Noting  that  the  lads  were  yet  undecided  what  to  do 
and  correctly  surmising  that  they  had  received  an  old- 
fashioned,  Christian  home  training,  he  suavely  added: 
“Our  charges  are  most  reasonable,  only  fifteen  cents  per 
night,  and  every  Sunday  morning  we  hold  here  in  the  office 
a  most  beautiful  song  and  prayer  service,  and  I  am  sure 
you  lads  will  be  glad  to  join  us  in  singing  grand  hymns.” 

This  last  statement  settled  the  whole  matter,  for  the 
twins  felt  that  a  place  in  which  prayer  meetings  were  held 
and  holy  hymns  chanted  could  never  be  an  unfit  place  for 
the  likes  of  them,  and  instead  of  landing  in  a  “hobo-joint” 
as  they  had  first  feared,  they  concluded  that  they  had 
actually  struck  a  home.  Perceiving  the  splendid  im¬ 
pression  his  appeal  had  made  upon  the  newcomers,  the 
manager  almost  pushed  the  lads  before  the  counter  and 
made  them  write  their  names  upon  the  soiled  and  tattered 
register.  Then  he  explained  to  them  that  the  charge 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


43 


was  fifteen  cents  for  one  night’s  lodging,  but  if  they  wished 
to  settle  in  advance  by  the  week  only  seventy-five  cents 
would  be  the  rate.  Seeing  that  he  could  save  sixty  cents, 
Joe  paid  for.each  a  week’s  lodging.  They  left  their  bundles 
in  the  manager’^  care,  and  then  inquired  for  a  reasonable 
priced  restaurant,  to  which  they  went  and  satisfied  their 
appetites. 

It  was  nearly  midnight  when  they  found  their  way 
back  to  the  “Golden  Rule  Hotel”,  whose  manager  was 
waiting  their  return,  and  who  explained  to  them  that  as 
every  “room”  was  taken  he  was  anxious  to  show  them  to 
their  “beds”,  so  he  could  lock  the  hotel  and  retire  for  the 
night.  He  lighted  the  stub  of  a  candle,  and  telling  the 
boys  to  follow  him,  he  led  them  up  a  creaky  stairway. 
Higher  and  higher  he  mounted,  and  when  the  twins  thought 
he  must  have  almost  reached  the  roof,  he  opened  a  small 
door,  and  picking  his  way  by  the  flickering  light  of  the 
candle  between  wooden  partitions,  he  at  last  stopped  in 
front  of  two  unoccupied  bunks,  one  above  the  other,  and 
after  telling  his  surprised  guests  that  these  were  the  “beds” 
for  which  they  had  paid,  and  after  cautioning  them  to  blow 
out  the  candle  as  soon  as  possible,  he  bade  them  good¬ 
night  and  vanished  into  the  darkness,  and  a  moment  later 
the  slamming  of  a  door  below  them  told  the  lads  that  they 
were  virtually  prisoners,  as  the  hotel  had  been  locked  for 
the  night. 

“Joe,”  v/hlspered  Jim  to  his  brother,  after  both  had 
inhaled  several  whiffs  of  the  foul  atmosphere  into  their 
lungs,  which  had  heretofore  only  been  accustomed  to  breath¬ 
ing  the  pure  air  of  the  prairie,  “in  what  sort  of  an  inferno 
have  w'e  landed?”  And  then  he  held  the  candle  high, 
and  by  its  unsteady,  sickly-yellow  light  he  counted  five 
bunks,  one  above  the  other,  in  the  tier  they  were  to  sleep, 
built  from  the  floor  right  up  to  the  ceiling,  with  only  suf¬ 
ficient  space  intervening  for  a  human  being  to  crawl  into. 
These  vertical  tiers  of  bunks  looked  for  all  the  world  like 
boarded  up  book  shelves  in  a  library,  one  adjoining  the 


44 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


other  as  far  as  their  eyes  could  penetrate  the  darkness  of 
the  hall,  and  in  each  and  every  bunk  was  a  snoring 
human  wretch,  while  the  suffocating  atmosphere  caused 
by  the  overcrowding  and  the  insufficient  ventilation, 
which  was  greatly  enhanced  by  the  heat  of  the  summer, 
made  the  “Golden  Rule  Hotel”  an  absolutely  unfit  place 
for  human  habitation. 

“Let’s  get  out  of  this  horrid  place,  even  if  weliave  to 
sleep  upon  the  chairs  down  below  in  the  office,”  whispered 
Jim;  but  before  he  could  add  another  word  or  make  a  move 
to  leave  the  hall,  a  threatening  voice,  emanating  from  the 
tier  of  bunks  in  the  darkness  behind  them,  whose  owner  had 
evidently  been  disturbed  by  their  conversation,  roughly 
commanded  them  to  “hush  up  and  blow  out  the  candle.” 

Unused  to  the  ways  of  the  city,  the  frightened  boys 
obeyed  the  command,  and  after  they  had  undressed  in  the 
darkness,  they  climbed  into  the  bunks  and  being  tired 
out  by  their  sight-seeing,  they  were  soon  asleep. 

In  the  early  morning,  after  they  had  made  their  toilets 
by  an  open  faucet  to  which  a  cake  of  perforated  laundry 
soap  had  been  chained,  they  descended  to  the  office  and 
there  demanded  of  the  manager  the  return  of  the  money 
they  had  paid  for  their  week’s  lodging,  less  the  cost  of  the 
lodging  of  the  preceding  night,  but  this  worthy  not  only 
absolutely  refused  to  refund  a  single  cent,  but  derided  them 
so  for  being  “Reubens”  that  they  decided  to  stop,  just  for 
spite,  at  the  “Golden  Rule  Hotel”  until  they  received  their 
money’s  worth. 

'’After  a  hasty  breakfast,  they  copied  from  the  want 
columns  of  the  Minneapolis  Tribune,  the  best  paper  in  the 
city,  the  addresses  of  those  who  had  inserted  advertisements 
which  the  twins  thought  would  suit  them,  and  set  out  to 
search  for  a  job,  that  they  had  long  ago  planned  should 
form  the  first  stepping  stone  towards  the  fortune  and  the 
fame  they  had  resolved  to  gather  in  the  city. 

^  It  is  an  easy  job  for  someone  who  has  had  experience 
in  this  line  to  find  employment  in  a  city.  Many  a  bright 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp 


45 


“Let’s  get  out  of  this  horrid  place,’’  whispered  Jim,  when  by  the  unsteady 
yellow  light  of  the  candle  he  counted  five  bunks,  one  above  the 
other,  each  of  which  held  a  sleeping  hobo. 


46 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


city  chap  quits  his  job  in  the  evening  to  be  almost  certain 
to  pick  up  a  new  one  the  following  morning.  But  for  Joe 
and  Jim,  filled  as  they  were  with  childish  dreams  of  easy 
fortune,  it  was  a  far  different  matter,  especially  while  they 
had  dollars  clinking  in  their  jeans,  as  a  boy  possessing  plenty 
of  loose  change  is  mighty  particular  about  the  employment 
he  accepts,  so,  although  the  lads  hunted  high  and  low,  from 
early  till  late,  they  could  not  find  suitable  places,  and  after 
supper  they  returned  to  the  “Golden  Rule  Hotel”  to  “roost” 
again  in  their  bunks,  surrounded  by  those  occupied  by  the 
riff-raff  of  the  slums. 

Joe  and  Jim  were  awakened  the  following  morning  by 
the  racket  the  rising  “guests”  of  the  hotel  made,  and  when 
they  reached  for  their  trousers  to  dress  themselves,  they 
not  only  found  that  these  had  disappeared,  but  that  their 
shoes,  hats  and  what  proved  to  be  their  heaviest  loss,  their 
coats  in  which  they  had  their  purses  with  every  cent  that 
they  possessed,  had  taken  wing  during  the  night  from  be¬ 
neath  their  pillows,  where  they  had  hidden  them  for  safety. 
They  tried  to  explain  their  loss  to  the  other  inmates,  but 
instead  of  receiving  sympathy  for  their  trouble,  only  m.a- 
licious  grunts  and  malevolent  leers  were  their  reward. 

A  few  moments  later  the  manager,  having  been  ap¬ 
prised  of  the  theft,  entered  the  dimly  lighted  quarters, 
not  to  search  the  other  bunks  for  their  stolen  property,  but 
merely  to  console  his  robbed  guests,  so  they  would  not 
report  their  loss  to  the  police  and  cause  unpleasant  comment 
In  the  papers.  While  they  listened  to  him  they  saw  only 
ugly  scowls  upon  the  rum-soaked  visages  of  the  other  in¬ 
mates  of  the  place,  v/ho  had  crowded  around  and  seemed 
to  greatly  enjoy  their  misfortune,  and  who  broke  into 
shouts  of  boisterous  laughter  when  the  manager  explained 
to  the  boys  that  the  golden  rule  of  the  “Golden  Rule  Hotel” 
had  always  read:  “Do  everybody — before  they  do  you.” 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 

CHAPTER  VII. 


47 


“False  Friends.” 


The  manager  of  the  "Golden  Rule  Hotel”  raked  up  a 
couple  of  outfits  of  cast-off  hobo  clothing,  and  coaxed 
Joe  and  Jim  into  dressing  themselves  into  these,  and 
then  advised  the  twins  to  quickly  find  employment  so  they 
could  purchase  better  attire. 

On  the  preceding  day,  when  they  were  yet  the  possessors 
of  almost  fifty  dollars,  they  had  refused  many  offers  of  good 
employment,  but  now  when  they  made  the  rounds  calling 
upon  the  same  employers,  dressed  as  they  were  in  their 
tattered  clothes,  to  plead  for  a  chance  to  be  permitted  to 
earn  a  living,  these  same  men  had  suddenly  become  stony¬ 
hearted  and  some  of  them  even  refused  to  listen  to  their 
tale  of  how  their  clothes  had  been  stolen  from  them.  They 
attempted  to  fill  jobs  at  common  labor,  but  even  in  this 
they  did  not  succeed,  as  their  young  bodies  lacked  the 
necessary  strength  to  wield  the  heavy  picks  and  shovels. 

When  the  dinner  hour  arrived,  Jim,  who  had  never  been 
in  all  his  life  as  hungry  as  he  was  at  this  moment,  remarked 
that  he  thought  it  would  be  best  to  hobo  the  next  train 
back  to  their  home,  but  Joe  caused  him  to  quickly  get  over 
this  attack  of  homesickness,  when  he  asked  if  Jim  had  the 
nerve  to  dare  face  their  mother  without  a  cent  and  in  the 
rags  he  wore. 

When  the  street  lamps  were  lighted  and  the  stores  and 
offices  commenced  to  be  closed  for  the  night,  they  made 
their  way  back  to  the  "Golden  Rule  Hotel”  where,  luckily 
for  them.,  they  had  at  least  a  place  to  sleep  in  the  bunks  for 
which  they  had  settled  a  week  in  advance. 

While  they  walked  down  the  city’s  thoroughfares,  they 
were  attracted  by  the  splendor  and  the  brilliant  illumina¬ 
tion  of  a  restaurant.  They  stopped  and  vdt’n  famished 
countenances  looked  through  the  French  plate  glass  win¬ 
dows  and  v/atched  the  diners  enjoy  toothsome  tidbits,  and 
then  wearily  moved  on — their  pride  would  not  permnt 


48 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


them  to  wait  for  a  departing  diner  to  accost  him  for  the 
price  of  a  loaf  of  bread  wherewith  to  still  their  gnawing 
hunger. 

When  they  entered  the  "Golden  Rule  Hotel”  office  not 
a  single  word  of  greeting  or  sympathy  was  extended  to 
them;  on  the  contrary,  the  manager  cautioned  them  to 
be  careful  not  to  have  their  present  suits  stolen  from  them 
during  the  night,  and  they  realized  how  true  was  the  per¬ 
verted  meaning  he  had  given  to  the  Golden  Rule. 

It  was  yet  early  in  the  evening  and  none  of  the  other 
inmates  had  retired  for  the  night,  but  so  completely  ex¬ 
hausted  were  the  boys  that  they  asked  for  a  candle  and  then 
in  the  semi-darkness  of  the  hall  found  the  numbers  of  the 
bunks  they  had  occupied  the  preceding  nights.  Remember¬ 
ing  the  manager’s  warning  to  take  better  care  of  their 
property,  they  placed  their  clothes  under  the  straw  stuffed 
mattresses. 

They  blew  out  the  candle,  but  just  at  the  moment 
when  they  were  ready  to  crawl  into  their  bunks,  Jim 
whispered  to  Joe:  "Brother,  come  let  us  pray  the  way 
mother  has  taught  us.”  And  there  in  the  darkness  of  the 
hall  they  knelt  upon  the  bare  floor,  and  while  their  tortur¬ 
ing  consciences  told  them  that  their  own  misfortunes  were 
only  a  fraction  of  the  woe  they  themselves  had  inflicted 
upon  their  poor,  widowed  mother,  they  plea,ded  with  God 
to  assist  them  in  the  extremity  of  their  distress  and  at 
least  not  permit  them  to  perish  of  sheer  starvation. 

At  break-of-day,  aroused  from  a  fitful  sleep  by  the 
gnawing  of  their  hunger,  they  dragged  themselves  down 
to  the  hotel  office  to  scan  the  morning  papers  for  some 
chance  to  find  employment.  But  even  this  early  there 
were  several  fellows  ahead  of  them  eagerly  copying 
addresses  from  the  want  columns.  While  they  waited 
for  their  turn  to  look  into  the  paper,  several  lodgers 
came  dowm  stairs.  "Are  you  looking  for  jobs,  my 
lads?”  they  were  addressed  in  a  friendly  manner  by 
one  of  these  early-risers,  who  was  a  rather  small  fellow 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp, 


They  stopped  in  front  of  a  brilliantly  illuminated  restaurant  and 
watched  with  famished  countenances  diners  enjoy 
toothsome  dainties.- 


50 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


and  whose  clothes  and  general  appearance  were  somewhat 
above  the  average  of  the  other  inmates  of  the  hotel,  and  as 
the  twins  nodded  assent  to  his  query,  he  continued:  “Are 
you  strangers  in  Minneapolis?”  And  as  Joe  affirmed  this 
question  he  in  a  still  more  friendly  tone  added:  “It’s  a 
hard  matter  for  strangers,  expecially  if  they  are  not 
dressed  in  style,  to  find  employment  in  this  city  at  this 
time  of  the  year.”  His  confiding  conversation  so  impressed 
the  thoroughly  disheartened  twins  that  upon  his  further 
questioning,  they  recounted  to  him  their  experiences  since 
the  moment  they  climbed  into  the  empty  box  car  that 
brought  them  to  Minneapolis. 

The  fellow  listened  attentively  to  their  story  of  mis¬ 
fortune  and  then  asked  them  to  give  to  him  their  correct 
name  and  home  address.  Joe,  thinking  that  at  last  they 
had  found  a  sympathizing  friend,  cheerfully  furnished  the 
stranger  with  their  correct  names,  and  gave  to  him  as  the 
address  of  their  home  the  name  of  their  lone  prairie  siding, 
Rugby,  North  Dakota.  Then  their  newly  made  acquaint¬ 
ance  pulled  out  a  notebook  into  which  he  carefully 
wrote  their  addresses.  Next  he  proposed  that  they 
wait  for  the  appearance  of  his  pal,  who  was  yet  on  the  floor 
above  them,  when  all  of  them  would  go  out  and  eat  break¬ 
fast. 

“A  man’s  stomach  is  his  best  friend”,  and  no  sooner 
had  the  fellow  invited  the  starving  lads,  who  for  more  than 
thirty-six  hours  had  not  tasted  a  solid  bite,  than  they  over¬ 
whelmed  their  friend  with  proofs  of  their  gratitude. 

A  little  later  their  benefactor’s  partner,  a  medium¬ 
sized,  clean  shaven  and  neatly  attired  fellow,  came  down  the 
stairway.  Their  friend  called  him  aside  and  they  held  a 
hurried  conversation.  Then  they  joined  the  twins  and  all 
went  to  a  nearby  restaurant.  While  the  lads  made  away 
with  a  quantity  of  food  that  caused  the  astonished  waiter 
to  gape  with  surprise,  their  two  benefactors,  while  they 
rattled  silver  dollars  in  their  pockets,  explained  to  the  lads 
that  Chicago  was  a  far  better  city  for  them  to  find  employ- 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


51 


ment  in  than  either  Minneapolis  or  St.  Paul,  and  that  if 
the  twins  would  join  them  on  a  hobo  trip  to  that  city  they 
would  see  to  it  that  they  would  not  suffer  until  a  job  was 
found  for  them. 

It  was  just  like  hanging  candy  before  a  baby,  and  Joe 
and  Jim  without  a  second  thought  accepted  their  offer. 
After  they  had  settled  for  their  breakfasts,  they  took  the 
agreeably  surprised  youngsters  into  a  clothing  store  and 
bought  for  each  of  them  a  serviceable  outfit  of  clothes, 
and  it  now  was  not  a  matter  if  the  boys  would  go  with  the 
strangers,  but  if  the  strangers  would  accept  the  boys,  soul 
and  body. 

“I  propose  that  we  get  out  of  Minneapolis  as  quickly 
as  we  can,”  suggested  the  fellow  whom  they  first  met  in 
the  “Golden  Rule  Hotel”  office,  and  his  pal  assented  and 
they  walked  to  the  railroad  station  where  they  purchased 
tickets  to  the  first  station  beyond  St.  Paul  and  within  an 
hour  they  were  aboard  a  train  traveling  to  their  new  desti¬ 
nation. 

Upon  their  arrival  at  this  station,  a  small  hamlet, 
their  first  acquaintance  told  them  that  his  road  name  was 
“Kansas  Shorty”  and  his  partner’s  “Slippery”.  The  lads 
were  surprised  that  these  men  should  not  use  their  Christian 
names,  but  as  they  were  accustomed  to  hearing  all  the 
section  laborers  and  every  harvester  called  by  a  “monicker” 
or  “name-de-rail”,  they  kept  their  thoughts  to  themselves, 
and  Joe,  after  listening  to  these  instructions  gleefully 
remarked:  “Gee,  I  wish  that  you  would  give  each  of  us  a 
hobo  name  the  same  as  you  have.”  After  some  discussion 
i  they  nicknamed  Joe,  “Dakota  Joe”  and  Jim,  “Da- 

i  kota  Jim.’* 

,1 

They  waited  for  some  time  to  try  to  hobo  some  pass¬ 
ing  train,  but  as  none  of  them  stopped  or  slowed  up  suf- 
I  ficiently  for  them  to  risk  swinging  onto  it,  when  the  dinner 
ihour  drew  near.  Slippery  visited  a  nearby  country  store 
and  soon  returned  carrying  canned  foods  and  other  material 
jfrom  which  they  could  prepare  a  substantial  “Mulligan”, 


52 


The  Trail  oj  the  Tramp. 


which  is  ma,de  by  stewing  in  a,  large  tin  can  almost  every¬ 
thing  edible  over  a  slow  fire.  They  collected  some  casta¬ 
way  tin  cans  and  then  went  to  a  thicket  by  the  side  of  a 
rippling  brook,  where  they  built  a  roaring  fire  and  v/hen 
the  embers  began  to  form  they  placed  upon  the  glowing 
coals  the  tin  can  containing  the  '‘mulligan”. 

Then  all  repaired  to  the  side  of  the  brook  to  scour  the 
cans  and  make  their  own  dinner  toilets,  and  here,  while 
the  twins  washed  their  faces,  their  pals  noticed  for  the  first 
time  the  singular  white  hair-growths  upon  the  backs  of 
their  heads,  their  inheritance  from  their  forefathers.  Joe  ex¬ 
plained  to  their  wondering  companions  that  these  streaks 
of  white  hair  were  their  birth-marks,  but  Slippery,  afraid 
that  these  conspicuous  freaks  of  nature  would  draw  too 
much  attention  to  their  young  comrades,  collected  some 
sprigs  of  sage,  and  after  he  had  pounded  the  same  to  a  pulp 
between  some  stones,  rubbed  it  into  the  white  hair  upon  the 
boy’s  heads,  with  the  result  that  within  a  few  moments  they 
were  dyed  to  almost  the  same  shade  as  the  rest  of  their 
scalps. 

By  this  time  the  “mulligan”  was  ready  to  serve  and 
they  dined  upon  the  savory  hobo-stew,  and  after  they  had 
filled  their  inner  selves,  according  to  hobo  usage  they 
stretched  themselves  in  the  shade  of  the  trees  to  take  their 
after-dinner  rest.  Unused  to  the  waysof  the  road,  yet  pleased 
with  the  fate  that  had  brought  them  into  the  partnership 
of  men  who  at  least  provided  them  with  substantial  meals, 
soon  the  satisfied  snores  that  emanated  from  their  throats 
proved  to  the  others  that  the  twins  had  landed  in  dream¬ 
land. 

The  moment  Kansas  Shorty,  who  had  anxiously  waited 
for  this  chance,  had  assured  himself  that  the  lads  were 
soundly  sleeping,  he  beckoned  to  his  pal  and  both  moved 
beyond  the  earshot  of  the  sleepers.  “Slippery,”  Kansas 
Shorty  addressed  his  pal,  “what  do  you  think  of  our  lucky 
catch  in  the  Road  Kid  Line’?  Don’t  you  think  that  we 
are  the  luckiest  tramps  that  ever  rambled  over  any  railroad 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


53 


to  make  a  catch  of  two  healthy  and  good-looking  lads  as 
these  two  are?”  And  then  after  he  had  permitted  his 
cunning  eyes  to  wander  back  over  the  forms  of  the  peace¬ 
fully  sleeping  lads  he  continued:  “And  wasn’t  it  funny  to 
see  how  they  appreciated  the  breakfasts  we  bought  for 
them,  the  new  store  suits  we  paid  for,  and  how  eagerly 
they  accepted  our  offer  to  permit  them  to  hobo  with  us  to 
Chicago,  and  how  now  they  are  blindly  devoted  to  us,  will¬ 
ing  to  follow  us  through  Hades?”  Here  Kansas  Shorty 
paused  and  added  in  a  whisper,  “And  wouldn’t  they  be 
surprised  if  they  knew  the  truth,  that  they  had  paid  for 
their  own  as  well  as  our  meals,  their  new  suits,  their  rail¬ 
road  tickets,  and  even  the  mulligan  with  their  own  money, 
as  we  are  the  ones  who,  during  the  darkness  of  the  night 
robbed  their  bunks  at  the  “Golden  Rule  Hotel?”  Then  the 
two  rascals  broke  into  hearty  laughter,  as  they  recalled 
how,  amongst  the  hundreds  of  the  homeless  v/retches  who 
lodged  at  the  Golden  Rule  Hotel,  they  were  the  ones  guilty 
of  having  stolen  everything  the  twins  possessed  in  the  world, 
and  when  Kansas  Shorty  repeated:  “First  we  stole  their 
clothes,  then  we  found  their  well-filled  purses,  and  now, 
to  finish  our  streak  of  luck  v/e  liave  them  thrown  into  the 
bargain,”  they  renewed  their  laughter,  v/hich  was  abruptly 
stopped  when  Kansas  Shorty  suddenly  asked  his  pal  what 
he  intended  to  do  with  the  lads.  “Of  course  we  can  take 
them  to  Chicago  with  us  and  find  them  some  sort  of  a  job, 
and  thus  rid  ourselves  of  their  presence,”  answered  Slippery, 
intending  to  shed  himself  of  their  useless  company,  and 
ever  wary  of  trouble  he  wisely  added,  “Kansas  Shorty,  you 
well  know  the  trite  saying:  ‘Two  is  company;  three  is  a 
crowd;  four  is  the  road  to  disaster,’  so  let  us  give  the  lads  a 
square  deal  and  take  them  with  us  to  Chicago  and  ‘drop’ 
them  there  after  finding  employmentfor  them.”  But  hardly 
had  he  finished  this  well-meant  suggestion,  than  Kansas 
Shorty  almost  in  a  rage  retorted:  “Slippery,  you  are 
proving  yourself  to  be  a  regular  yegg  by  the  soft 
talk  you  have  just  been  giving  me.  You  belong  to 


54 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


the  class  of  men  who  steal  and  rob,  while  I  am  a 
“plinger”,  and  beg  for  a  living.  To  your  kind  a 
boy  is  a  handicap,  while  to  our  class  a  good-looking 
boy  is  a  most  decided  asset  as  a  boy  to  us  means  a  heavy 
increase  of  our  incomes  and  of  our  comforts,  and  now  you 
tell  me  that  you  are  anxious  to  find  jobs  for  these  lads 
whom  I  could  easily  train  into  first-class  Road  Kids.” 
Slippery,  dumfounded  at  the  almost  monstrous  proposition 
his  comrade  made,  who  was  ready  and  willing  to  spoil  the 
youngsters’  futures  by  transforming  them  into  common 
beggars,  failed  to  find  an  immediate  answer,  and  now 
Kansas  Shorty,  abusively  speaking,  continued:  “You, 
Slippery,  have  been  my  rambling-mate  for  almost  a  month, 
but  now  I  propose  that  we  part  comradeship  and  you  travel 
on  to  Chicago  and  let  me  take  charge  of  these  sleeping  lads, 
as  I  do  not  wish  other  plingers  to  know  that  I  have  been 
guilty  enough  to  permit  two  likely  looking  lads  to  slip 
through  my  hands  by  permitting  them  to  accept  employ¬ 
ment,  and”  he  added  as  a  sort  of  final  argument,  “when  I 
take  charge  of  these  kids,  I  shall  know  how  to  keep  my  bread 
well  buttered.” 

Although  Slippery  himself  was  a  confirmed  criminal, 
he  bore  only  the  deepest  of  loathing  for  that  class  of  scoun¬ 
drels  of  which  Kansas  Shorty  had  proudly  proclaimed 
himself  a  member,  and  his  hatred  of  the  begging  class  of 
tramps  welled  up  in  him  and  with  a  sudden  movement  his 
hand  swung  back  to  his  hip  pocket  and  glaring  in  a  most 
menacing  manner  at  Kansas  Shorty  he  waited  for  further 
developments.  Seeing  that  Slippery  meant  business,  this 
scoundrel  now  took  recourse  in  diplomacy.  “Slippery,  old 
pal,”  the  miserable  coward  stammered,  while  at  the  same 
time  his  eyes  followed  the  yegg’s  arm  down  to  where  he 
saw  his  hand  gripping  a  large  caliber  revolver,  and  although 
perceiving  his  danger  should  he  further  provoke  the  anger 
of  his  pal,  he  was  unwilling  to  give  up  the  youngsters  with¬ 
out  at  least  a  struggle,  “what  is  the  use  of  two  such  chums 
as  we  have  been  until  this  moment,  to  quarrel  about  a 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


55 


couple  of  good-for-nothing  runaway  kids?  Let  me  make  you 
a  fair  proposition.  You  said  that  two  is  company,  while 
three  is  a  crowd,  and  as  I  am  sure  you  will  not  court  the 
risk  to  drag  two  road  kids  with  you  past  all  the  Johnny 
Laws  (policemen)  who  will  get  wise  to  you  when  you  have 
a“family”  hoboing  with  you,  I  propose  that  you  take  one  of 
these  lads  with  you  to  Chicago,  while  I  shall  take  it  upon 
me  to  look  after  the  other  one,”  and  when  he  noted  that 
Slippery’s  hand  had  loosened  its  grip  from  the  pistol,  he 
said  in  almost  pleading  tones,  “two  of  them  will  be  entirely 
too  many  for  you,  while  one  will  make  a  good  companion 
for  you  in  yegging,  and  the  other  one  will  make  a  good 
assistant  for  me  in  plinging,  and  to  promptly  settle  the 
question  whom  each  one  is  to  take  let’s  flip  a  dollar  into  the 
air,  and  if  it  falls  with  the  head  up  you  take  your  choice, 
wdiile  if  the  eagle  turns  up  I  have  the  first  pick.” 

Slippery  gave  in  to  Kansas  Shorty’s  plausible  argument 
because  he  not  only  wished  to  avoid  bloodshed,  but  he  also 
realized  that  the  two  lads  would  be  a  handicap  to  him,  as 
he  had  his  face  and  Bertillon  measurements  in  every 
rogue’s  gallery  in  the  country,  and  he  saw  a  chance  to  thus 
peaceably  rid  himself  of  his  companion,  whom  he  now 
despised  far  more  than  he  would  a  rattlesnake 

He  gave  a  nod  with  his  head  and  Kansas  Shorty  flipped 
the  dollar  high  into  the  air,  and  when  it  fell  to  the  ground  the 
eagle  showed  up  on  top,  and  Kansas  Shorty  went  over  to 
Jim,  who  seemed  to  him  somewhat  more  tractable  then  his 
brother  Joe,  and  more  suited  for  his  purposes.  He 
awakened  him  and  then  aroused  Joe,  and  explained 
to  both  that  instead  of  rambling  directly  to  Chi¬ 
cago,  while  they  had  been  sleeping.  Slippery  and  he 
had  decidea  to  tackle  for  employment  the  many 
farms  which  they  saw  on  both  sides  of  the  railroad  track, 
and  that  Joe  should  accompany  Slippery,  while  Jim  had 
been  selected  by  him  as  his  companion  in  this  job-hunting 
venture.  The  unsuspecting  lads  readily  assented  to  this 
fair  sounding  proposition,  the  more  as  Kansas  Shorty, 


66 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


although  he  cautioned  Slippery  to  meet  him  and  Jim  that 
evening  under  the  “big  oak”,  never  exchanged  another 
word  with  his  partner. 

“So  long,  until  tonight,”  called  Jim  to  Joe,  who  re¬ 
turned  his  brother’s  farewell,  and  soon  Kansas  Shorty  with 
Jim  by  his  side  was  walking  northward  upon  the  railroad 
track,  until  around  a  curve,  which  placed  them  out  of  view 
of  the  other  pair,  who  were  walking  upon  the  track  south¬ 
ward,  he  left  the  right-of-way  at  a  road  crossing  and  struck 
westward  upon  a  public  highway  into  the  interior. 

The  flip  of  the  coin  had  decided  their  fate.  It  meant 
for  James  McDonald  that  he  had  become  an  apprentice 
to  Kansas  Shorty,  the  Plinger — a  begging  tramp;  while 
for  Joseph  McDonald  it  spelled  that  he  had  become  a 
companion  to  Slippery,  the  Yegg — a  criminal  tramp. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

“Busting  a  Broncho.” 

\ 

For  three  long  days  after  they  had  parted  company  with 
the  others,  Kansas  Shorty  kept  Jim  aimlessly  wander¬ 
ing  with  him  about  the  country,  carefully  avoiding  the 
railroads,  as  he  did  not  wish  to  meet  other  tramps  v/hile 
Jim  was  yet  “green”  to  the  dark  ways  of  the  road,  as  they 
by  wily  tricks  and  methods  often  entice  new  road  kids  from 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp.  57 

their  partners,  who  in  the  language  of  the  road  are  known 
as  “jockers”. 

From  the  moment  that  Kansas  Shorty  had  Jim  out  of 
the  view  of  Slippery  and  Joe,  he  commenced  training  the 
lad  into  the  infamous  v/ays  of  the  road,  so  as  to  properly 
prepare  him  for  his  future  work.  The  first  and  most  im¬ 
portant  lesson  he  gave  the  unsuspecting  youngster 
consisted  in  poisoning  his  faith  in  humanity  by  teach¬ 
ing  him  that  henceforth  he  must  consider  and  treat 
every  human  being,  except  his  pal,  as  his  bitter  enemy. 
To  prove  that  to  be  a  fact  he  would  call  the  lad’s  at¬ 
tention  to  the  suspicious  looks  everjTody  whom  they 
passed  upon  the  public  highway  would  cast  at  them.  The 
second  lesson  was  to  impress  upon  Jim  the  importance  of 
never  revealing  his  correct  name  and  address  to  any  in¬ 
quisitive  questioner,  but  to  always  take  refuge  behind  some 
common  name  such  as  Jones,  Brown  or  Smith,  and  to  give 
some  faraway  city  as  his  place  of  residence.  He  taught  the 
boy  many  other  vicious  tricks,  and  to  prevent  suspicions 
arising  in  the  lad’s  mind  that  everything  was  not  on  the 
square,  Kansas  Shorty  would  let  him  wait  for  him  in  the 
public  highway,  after  he  had  told  him  that  he  would  call 
at  a  nearby  farm  house  and  try  to  find  jobs  for  both.  He 
would  then  knock  on  the  farm  house  door,  and  if  someone 
answered  his  knocks  would  ask  for  a  match,  a  pin  or  some 
other  trifle  and  then  return  to  the  waiting  lad  and  bitterly 
complain  about  his  inability  to  find  employment. 

Towards  the  evening  of  the  first  day,  Jim  becoming 
somewdiat  anxious  to  meet  his  brother,  and  observing  that 
Kamsas  Shorty  made  not  the  slightest  move  to  reach  the 
“big  oak”,  which  he  had  told  Slippery  should  be  their 
meeting  place,  he  casually  remarked;  ‘Say,  friend,  is  it 
not  close  to  the  time  that  we  should  find  our  way  to  the 
“big  oak”  where  we  are  to  meet  Slippery  and  my  brother 
Joe?”  “It’s  plenty  time  until  then,”  was  Kansas  Shorty’s 
reply,  and  then  to  show  Jim  that  he  was  from  now  on  his 


58 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


master,  he  angrily  added:  “You  do  not  need  to  remind  me 
again,  as  I  shall  take  care  of  you.” 

Just  as  dusk  blended  into  the  night,  after  they  had 
supped  upon  a  handout  that  he  had  begged  at  a  farm  house, 
Kansas  Shorty  pointed  his  hand  in  the  direction  of  some 
oaks  which  were  growing  some  distance  from  the  highway 
and  told  Jim  that  beneath  the  tallnst  of  them  was  the  place 
where  they  were  to  meet  Slippery  and  Joe. 

They  climbed  over  fences  and  crossed  fields,  and  the 
closer  they  approached  the  tree  the  more  Jim’s  heart  pab 
pitated,  so  anxious  was  he  to  rejoin  his  twin  brother,  whose 
inseparable  companion  he  had  been  since  their  birth  until 
this  day,  and  strange  forebodings  seemed  to  have  told 
him  that  all  was  not  well,  as  Kansas  Shorty  during  their 
conversation  had  contradicted  himself  in  many  statements, 
and  too,  they  had  passed  farm  house  after  farm  house  and 
many  people  in  the  public  highway  during  the  last  two 
hours  without  his  trying  to  apply  to  them  for  a  job. 

When  they  reached  the  oak  and  Jim  found  that  neither 
Slippery  nor  Joe  had  put  in  an  appearance,  he  began 
to  lament,  and  when  Kansas  Shorty  assured  him  that  he 
could  only  account  for  their  absence  by  believing  they  had 
been  jailed  on  a  “suspicious  character”  charge,  the  fright¬ 
ened  lad  commenced  to  sob. 

Kansas  Shorty  feeling  in  need  of  a  night  s  rest,  climbed 
across  fences  into  a  nearby  field  and  gathered  some  new- 
mown  hay  from  which  he  fashioned  beneath  the  protecting 
branches  of  the  oak  a  comfortable  resting  place  for  himself 
and  Jim.  But  before  he  went  to  sleep,  to  prevent  Jim 
from  taking  French  leave,  he  induced  the  boy  to  take  off 
his  shoes  and  his  coat  out  of  which  he  made  for  himself  a 
pillow,  and  after  he  had  assured  the  lad  that  Slippery  and 
Joe  would  certainly  find  them  should  they  arrive  during  the 
night,  he  turned  over  on  to  his  side  and  was  soon  soundly 
sleeping. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day  they  struck  a  rail* 
road  for  the  first  time  since  they  left  it.  It  proved  to  be  the 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


69 


St.  Paul-Omaha  main  line  of  the  Chicago  and  North¬ 
western  System,  and  as  luck  would  have  it,  while  they  were 
walking  up  a  steep  grade  a  stock  train  loaded  with  sheep 
passed  them  so  slowly  that  they  found  it  an  easy  matter 
to  swing  themselves  onto  it  and  they  climbed  through  an 
open  end-door  into  one  of  the  stock  cars,  in  which,  hid¬ 
den  amongst  the  sheep,  they  managed  to  hobo  unmolested 
through  many  division  points  where  they  bought  provisions 
while  the  sheep  were  being  fed  and  watered.  On  the  morn¬ 
ing  of  the  third  day  they  landed,  not  at  Chicago,  as  Kansas 
Shorty  had  until  now  made  Jim  believe,  but  at  Denver, 
the  beautiful  capital  city  of  Colorado. 

While  they  walked  about  the  streets  of  the  city,  Kan¬ 
sas  Shorty  met  a  friend  whom  he  addressed  as  “Nevada 
Bill,”  and  who  as  soon  as  the  former  told  him  that  Jim  was 
“his  road  kid”,  placed  his  hand  under  the  boy’s  chin  and 
after  sizing  the  lad  up  just  as  a  butcher  would  a  beef,  he 
whispered:  “Well,  well,  Kansas  Shorty,  I  see  you  have 
brought  a  fine  ‘broncho'  to  town  with  you.  I  hope  that 
you  will  be  able  to  make  a  first-class  road  kid  of  him.”  To 
which  coarse  remarks  Kansas  Shorty  laughingly  replied: 
“Never  fret,  Nevada  Bill,  I  have  trained  many  a  road  kid 
into  good  plingers.”  Nevada  Bill  then  told  him  where  a 
gang  of  plingers  had  their  headquarters,  and  as  Kansas 
Shorty  seemed  to  be  acquainted  with  most  of  them  whose 
monickers  Nevada  Bill  repeated  to  him,  he  decided  to  pay 
this  gang  a  visit. 

They  wended  their  way  through  Denver’s  lowest 
slums  and  finally  arrived  at  the  headquarters  of  this  gang 
of  professional  tramp  beggars,  who  always  prefer  cities 
in  which  to  ply  their  trade,  and  only  strike  out  to  visit 
smaller  places  and  the  country  at  large — and  then  only  in 
separate  pairs — when  too  many  of  them  drifted  into  the 
same  city,  so  as  to  make  combing  the  public  for  money 
an  unprofitable  business,  or  when  the  police  made  a  general 
raid  upon  vagrants  of  their  class. 

This  last  reason  was  hardly  to  be  feared,  for  as  in  this 


60 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


gang’s  case,  they  invariably  have  their  headquarters  in 
the  building  above  a  slum  saloon,  whose  proprietor  would 
and  could  not  be  in  business  very  long  unless  he  knew  how 
to  protect  his  lodgers  against  police  interference,  as  a  gang’s 
quarters  needed  to  be  raided  only  one  time,  and  ever  after 
all  plingers  in  the  land  would  give  this  unsafe  “dump,”  as 
tramps  call  this  class  of  hangout,  a  wide  berth,  as  this 
raid  sufficiently  proved  to  them  that  this  slum  saloon  was 
not  properly  “protected.” 

Up  the  well-worn  stairway  they  climbed  and  when 
they  reached  the  second  floor  of  the  building  Kansas  Shorty 
knocked  on  a  door,  which  was  only  opened  to  them  after 
he  had  given  an  account  of  his  identity,  and  when  they 
entered  the  room,  that  by  another  open  door  was  connected 
with  an  adjoining  second  one,  Jim,  to  his  complete  surprise 
found  himself  in  the  company  of  eight  grown,  burly  hoboes 
of  the  roughest  imaginable  type  and  almost  a  school  class 
of  road  kids. 

Kansas  Shorty  was  most  cordially  welcomed  by  the 
men  occupying  the  rooms,  who  insisted  that  he  anJ  his 
road  kid  should  make  their  home  with  them  during  their 
stay  in  Denver,  which  offer  he  gladly  accepted.  Thea  he 
introduced  Jim  as  “Dakota  Jim”  to  the  others  and  made 
the  lad  shake  hands  with  each  and  everyone  of  the  ragged, 
filthy  and  foul-visaged  fellows,  who,  as  Kansas  Shorty 
had  told  Jim  upon  the  street  before  he  had  found  their 
hiding  place,  were  “proper”  tramps  and  explained  to  him 
that  this  meant  that  all  of  them  were  recognized  amongst 
their  own  kind  as  worthy  members  of  the  fraternity. 

After  he  had  shaken  hands  with  the  ugly,  rum- 
bloated  specimens  of  humanity,  Jim  had  a  chance  to 
take  a  look  at  the  two  rooms  which  were  to  be  his  future 
home,  and  his  thoughts  went  back  to  his  mother’s  cleanly 
kept  section  house,  for  the  total  of  the  furniture  in  these 
rooms  consisted  of  some  empty  soap  boxes  which  served 
for  chairs,  a  slime-covered  table,  a  couple  of  rough  v/ooden 
benches,  a  piece  of  mirror  glass  that  was  upheld  by  nails 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


61 


driven  into  the  bare  walls,  a  range,  upon  which  at  this 
moment  a  dinner  was  cooking,  and  tw'o  dilapidated  beds, 
the  pillows,  blankets  and  mattresses  of  which — there  was 
no  trace  of  linen — were  in  an  even  far  more  filthy  condition 
than  the  bunks  of  the  “Golden  Rule  Hotel”  at  Minneapolis. 

Jim  was  aroused  from  his  survey  of  the  rooms  by 
Kansas  Shorty,  who  now  introduced  him  to  each  one  of 
the  road  kids,  whose  jockers  called  aloud  the  name-de-road 
of  each: 

Some  of  thesejockers  had  as  many  as  four  of  these  lads, 
whose  ages  ranged  from  ten  to  twenty  years,  and  whose 
sizes  were  from  that  of  mere  children  to  fellows  who  shaved 
themselves  daily  so  as  to  pass  mmster  as  “road  kids”.  To 
have  seen  these  road  kids  one  would  have  never  imagined 
that  within  the  course  of  a  few  short  years  every  one  of 
these  boys  would  be  transformed  into  the  same  class  of 
sodden  wretches  their  jockers  now  were,  who  had  trained 
them  into  the  ways  of  the  road,  and  that  they  in  turn 
during  their  life  time  would  spoil  the  futures  of  scores  of 
sons  of  respectable  parents,  which  proves  that  degeneration 
breeds  degeneration. 

One  of  the  road  kids  in  the  den  of  the  plingers,  who  was 
known  by  the  name  of  “Danny”  because  of  his  neat  ap¬ 
pearance  and  superior  intelligence,  attracted  Jim’s  atten¬ 
tion  and  gave  a  fair  average  example  of  the  parentage  of 
the  rest.  When  after  their  short  acquaintance  in  a  burst 
of  confidence  Jim  acquainted  Danny  with  the  fact  that  his 
late  father  had  been  the  foreman  and  commander  of  a  sec¬ 
tion  crew  of  a  North  Dakota  railroad,  Danny  puckered 
up  his  lips  in  utter  contempt  when  he  informed  and  proved 
to  the  surprised  Jim  that  he  was  the  son  of  a  wealthy  banker 
of  Fort  Worth,  Texas,  and — another  proof  of  boyish 
thoughtlessness — had  skipped  school  to  hop  freight  trains 
in  the  railroad  yards  of  his  home  city.  One  day  he  had 
watched  some  wandering  hoboes  cooking  a  mulligan  by  a 
campfire,  and  had  helped  to  eat  the  stew,  and  through  this 
had  made  the  first  acquaintance  of  his  present  jocker,  who 


62 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


had  enticed  the  little  lad  to  run  away  from  his  home  and 
follow  him  out  on  the  road;  had  trained  him  into  making 
a  living  for  both;  had  taught  him  first  to  drink,  then  to 
like  and  last  to  crave  strong  liquor,  and  although  he  treated 
the  lad  as  a  master  would  his  slave,  he  gave  him  daily  a 
regular  allowance  of  diluted  alcohol,  which  caused  his  young 
victim  to  quickly  forget  all  desire  to  return  to  his  home  and 
his  parents  as  there  he  could  not  secure  the  dram  he  yearned. 

Their  conversation  was  interrupted  by  one  of  the 
grown  hoboes,  who,  acting  as  cook,  called  all  hands  to 
“dinner”.  This  dinner,  which  was  another  mulligan,  was 
placed  in  the  center  of  the  table  in  the  same  pot  in  which  it 
had  been  cooked,  and  each  member  of  the  gang,  just  as  if 
they  were  still  camping  about  a  hobo  fire  in  the  woods,  by 
means  of  a  small  wooden  paddle  pulled  as  much  of  the 
mulligan  as  he  desired,  onto  a  tin  plate,  that  had  never 
been  touched  by  dishwater,  but  had  only  been  scraped 
since  the  day  it  arrived  at  the  rooms. 

During  their  meal,  also  before  they  commenced  to 
dine  and  after  they  had  finished,  in  fact  all  the  time  except 
when  they  were  sleeping,  a  “human  chain”  was  kept  busy 
fetching  from  the  slum  saloon  on  the  ground  floor  of  the 
building  a  steady  stream  of  “growlers”  filled  with  beer  and 
diluted,  sweetened  alcohol,  which  passed  as  “whiskey”,  and 
returning  the  empty  tin  cans  for  further  supplies,  as  not 
the  small  rent  of  the  rooms  but  the  large  and  steady  thirst 
of  their  inmates  made  it  very  profitable  for  the  dive  keepers 
to  lodge  this  class  of  human  perverts. 

After  they  had  finished  their  dinner  the  two  filth¬ 
laden  beds,  the  benches,  the  table  and  even  the  slime 
covered  floor  became  sleeping  places  for  the  satiated  tramps 
and  their  road  kids,  and  gradually  as  their  cigarettes 
burned  low  and  their  coarse  conversation  lagged,  all  of 
them,  greatly  assisted  by  the  strong  drink  they  had  swal¬ 
lowed,  dozed  away. 

-  All  of  them — with  the  exception  of  James  McDonald, 
who  had  not  yet  sunken  to  the  sodden  level  of  these  brutes 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp, 


63 


Kansas  Shorty  pulled  the  lad  across  the  table,  and  after  one  of  the 
inhuman  monsters  had  stuffed  a  filthy  rag  into  the  poor  boy's 
rnouth  to  smother  his  pitiful  screams,  they  pounded 
him  until  he  became  unconscious. 


64 


The  Trail  of  the  l^ramp. 


in  human  forms  who  lay  scattered  about  the  two  rooms, 
dead  to  the  world  in  maudlin  sleep,  proving  themselves  to 
be  living  models  of  every  stage  of  the  decaying  influences 
of  hobo  life,  from  mien  whose  countenances  had  been  turned 
into  bloated  visages  down  to  the  pale  faces  of  the  younger 
boys  who  had  just  commenced  to  feel  the  curse  of  the  lives 
which  they  had  been  forced  by  these  jockers  to  lead. 

While  Jim  sat  amongst  them  upon  an  emipty  up¬ 
turned  soap  box,  his  eyes  wandered  from  one  to 
the  other  of  these  wretched  beings,  who  from  this 
time  on  would  be  his  pals  and  companions  and 
whose  lives  gave  him  a  vivid  picture  of  what  his 
own  future  would  be.  Suddenly  the  blood  w^elled  up  in 
him,  and  although  he  knew  that  hundreds  of  miles  of  un¬ 
known  country  separated  him  from  his  home  and  mother,  one 
desire  outbalanced  everything,  that  was  the  wish  to  escape 
the  fate  of  these  hoboes  and  the  longer  he  looked  at  the 
alcohol  disfigured  masks  of  these  human  vultures  who,  too, 
had  once  been  clean  and  manly  lads,  the  more  fierce  be- 
camie  his  resolve  to  now  or  never  escape  the  clutches  of 
Kansas  Shorty,  who  was  sleeping  as  heavily  as  the  others. 

He  scanned  again  the  face  of  each  one  of  the  hoboes, 
and  especially  that  of  Kansas  Shorty,  and  after  he  had  as¬ 
sured  himself  that  all  were  soundly  sleeping  he  carefully 
stepped  over  the  bodies  of  those  who  lay  between  him  and 
his  liberty — the  door  that  led  into  the  hallway — but  as  he 
turned  its  knob,  which  being  rusty  from  age  and  filth, 
creaked  considerably,  its  grating  noise  awakened  one  of 
the  road  kids,  who  fathoming  the  reason  of  Jim’s  opening 
the  door  and  darting  into  the  hallway,  let  out  a  piercing 
shout,  “that  Kansas  Shorty’s  kid  was  making  his  get-away’’. 
This  warning  shriek  not  only  awakened  every  one  of  the 
sleepers  but  sobered  Kansas  Shorty  so  suddenly  that  he 
made  a  headlong  dive  through  the  open  door,  beyond  which 
Jim  was  running  down  the  hallway  trying  to  make  his 
escape.  He  caught  the  lad  before  he  even  reached  the 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


65 


stairway  and  dragged  the  shuddering  boy  back  into  the 
filthy  room,  carefully  locking  the  door  behind  them. 

He  pulled  the  boy  across  the  table,  and  after  one 
of  the  inhuman  monsters  had  stuffed  a  filthy  rag  into  the 
poor  lad’s  mouth  to  smother  his  screams,  Kansas  Shorty, 
as  the  jocker  of  the  lad,  gleefully  assisted  by  the  others  in 
his  savage  task,  pounded  poor  Jim  until  he  became  uncon¬ 
scious. 

When  Jim  came  to,  Kansas  Shorty,  of  whom  he  ex¬ 
pected  this  last'  of  all,  was  sitting  upon  the  edge  of  the  bed 
upon  which  he  had  been  placed,  and  while  he  fanned  the 
poor  boy’s  bruised  and  battered  face  with  a  folded  news¬ 
paper,  he  was  talking  to  him  in  a  softly  purring  voice, 
telling  him  how  sorry  he  felt  to  have  been  forced  to  punish 
him  for  having  attempted  to  run  away  from  his  “protector”, 
who  intended  to  make  out  of  “Dakota  Jim”  a  “man”  who 
in  the  future  would  be  proud  to  tell  other  plingers  that 
Kansas  Shorty  had  been  his  jocker. 

Kansas  Shorty  continued  to  speak  in  this  petting  and 
almost  flattering  vein,  while  at  the  same  time  he  fed  the 
feverish  and  maltreated  lad  with  pieces  of  choice  candy  and 
other  tidbits  for  which  he  had  sent  while  Jim  was  yet  un¬ 
conscious,  and  stroked  the  boy’s  hair  and  dressed  his  wounds 
with  vaseline-soaked  rags  and  showed  in  every  possible 
manner  how  true  a  friend  he  was  to  Jim,  to  whom  he  re¬ 
peated  over  and  over  the  fact  that  he  had  clothed  and  fed 
him  in  Minneapolis  when  he  and  his  brother  Joe  were  on 
the  verge  of  death  by  starvation.  He  never  stopped  his 
flow  of  pleasing  language,  ever  harping  upon  the  good  he 
had  done  and  would  do  for  Jim,  if  the  latter  would  only 
trust  him,  until  forced  by  sheer  friendless  loneliness  the 
boy  folded  his  bruised  arms  around  Kansas  Shorty’s  neck 
and  amid  heart-broken  sobs  begged  his  pardon  for  having 
tried  to  leave  him,  and  while  the  other  hoboes  in  the  room, 
old  as  well  as  young,  who  had  all  passed  through  the  same 
sort  of  treatment,  had  a  hard  time  to  suppress  their  smiles, 
he  solemnly  promised  to  never  again  attempt  to  escape. 


66 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


Then  the  poor  boy  sank  back  upon  the  bed  and  grad¬ 
ually,  urged  on  by  Kansas  Shorty’s  assurance  that  sleep 
would  heal  all  the  quicker  the  bruises  and  marks  the  terrible 
beating  had  left  on  him,  a  reminder  of  his  promise,  and  a 
warning  of  far  worse  punishment  should  he  dare  to  break 
it,  he  fell  asleep. 

Then  the  other  plingers  sent  down  to  the  slum  saloon 
for  a  new  supply  of  beer  and  “whiskey  ,  and  while  they 
took  care  not  to  make  noise  enough  to  awaken  the  new 
recruit  to  the  army  of  professional  beggars,  they  drank  to 
Kansas  Shorty’s  health  and  congratulated  him  upon  the 
successful  culmination  of  the  first  step  necessary  to  make 
a  good-for-nothing  parasite  of  society  out  of  a  respectable 
boy.  This  inhuman  brutality  is  administered  to  every 
boy  who  falls  into  the  clutches  of  a  plinger,  as  it  not  only 
deadens  the  spirit  of  pride  and  honor,  but  makes  the  boy 
obedient  to  the  least  command  of  his  jocker. 

This  cruel  maltreatment  is  called  amongst  those  hoboes 
who  have  boys  tramping  with  them:  “Busting  a  Broncho  . 


CHAPTER  IX. 

“The  Abyss.” 

The  following  law,  if  passed  and  enforced  without  mercy, 
would  quickly  put  a  stop  to  the  common  practice  of  de¬ 
generates  spoiling  the  lives  and  futures  of  other  people’s 
children  by  training  them  to  become  tramps,  drunkards, 
professional  beggars  and  even  dangerous  criminals,  viz: 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp, 


67 


“Should  any  minor  be  found  beyond  the  limits  of  his  legal 
residence  tramping,  peddling,  begging  or  stealing  at  the 
command  or  for  the  benefit  of  an  adult  person,  who  cannot 
prove  that  he  had  the  legal  consent  of  the  minor’s  guardian, 
then  this  adult  person  shall  be  sentenced  to  a  long  term 
at  hard  labor  in  the  state  penitentiary.” 


(The  actual  experiences  of  the  Author,  who  when  a 
young  boy  was  at  one  time  a  plinger’s  road  kid,  are  em¬ 
bodied  into  this  chapter  and  have  been  even  far  more 
revolting  than  herein  described.) 


It  was  several  days  after  the  terrible  thrashing  before 
Jim  recovered  sufficiently  to  be  able  to  show  himself  upon 
tlie  streets. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fifth  day  after  his  arrival  at 
Denver,  he  was  told  by  Kansas  Shorty  to  accompany  Danny 
upon  his  day’s  work  and  watch  how  this  small,  weak  boy 
managed  to  earn  a  living  for  himself  and  his  master,  who 
under  the  pretense  of  “showing  him  the  world”,  had  en¬ 
ticed  him  away  from  his  home. 

Danny  had  been  trained  by  his  jocker,  an  ugly  ex¬ 
convict,  who  on  account  of  his  ape-like  face  had  been 
dubbed  “Jocko”,  to  peddle  needle  cases  from  house  to  house. 
These  needle  cases  are  paper  packages  containing  an  assort¬ 
ment  of  needles  and  are  always  retailed  in  every  store  in 
the  land  for  five  cents.  These  harmless  packages  have 
made  more  useless,  if  not  dangerous  men  out  of  harmless 
youngsters  than  any  other  cause,  as  printed  in  bold  type 
across  their  face  are  these  words: 

“PRICE  25  CENTS”. 

This  fictitious  price  mark  works  straight  into  the  hands  of 
the  jockers  who  purchase  these  needle  cases  by  the  gross 
for  about  two  cents  each  and  teach  their  road  kids  to  dis¬ 
pose  of  them  at  a  huge  profit.  If  needle  cases  can  not  be 
bad,  sticking  plaster,  aluminum  thimbles,  pencils,  shoe- 


68  The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 

strings  and  other  such  articles  are  given  to  the  road  kids 
to  peddle. 

From  the  pages  of  a  Denver  City  Directory,  Jocko 
had  copied  upon  sheets  of  paper  the  name,  street  and  house 
number  of  every  resident  in  the  city,  overlooking  none,  as 
sometimes  those  who  occupy  humble  homes  buy  more 
needle  cases  and  turn  out  more  revenue  than  those  who 
reside  in  marble  palaces. 

Jocko  had  handed  Danny  a  list  of  names  and  addresses 
and  the  road  kid’s  trick,  which  his  ugly  jocker  had  most 
carefully  rehearsed  with  him,  was  worked  by  calling  at 
residences  and  by  correctly  quoting  the  names  foil  the 
servants  and  obtain  an  interview  v/ith  the  lady  of  the  house 
to  whom  he  would  tell  a  story  that  would  make  a  ’’stone 
weep.”  With  Jim  by  his  side  this  morning  he  spoke  of 
him  as  being  his  cousin,  and  with  a  string  of  woeful  lies 
attached  to  his  yarn  he  usually  managed  not  only  to  re¬ 
ceive  the  price  printed  upon  the  package,  which  he  held  up 
in  such  a  position  that  the  lady  could  not  fail  to  see  its 
fictitious  value,  but  oftentimes  he  received  more  than  this 
sum. 

They  sold  a  number  of  the  needle  cases,  and  although 
Jim  had  a  look  of  complete  disgust  upon  his  face,  show'ing 
how  he  disapproved  of  Danny’s  lying,  the  latter,  proud  as 
a  peacock,  instead  of  being  ashamed  of  swindling  kind- 
hearted  ladies,  said  in  a  tone  of  voice  which  left  no  doubt 
that  he  would  do  exactly  as  he  proposed:  “Eh,  Jim,  when 
I  get  to  be  a  plinger  I  shall  have  at  least  a  dozen  road  kids 
peddling  for  me  and  not  like  Jocko,  who  besides  myself 
has  only  three  other  kids  hustling  for  him,”  and  after  a 
pause  he  disdainfully  added,  just  as  if  his  jocker  was  not 
already  doing  incalculable  harm,  “only  four  kids,  with  so 
many  of  them  hoboing  about  the  country.” 

At  one  of  the  houses,  after  Danny  had  repeated  his 
tale  of  woe,  a  charitable  lady  told  them  to  await  her  return 
as  she  had  left  her  purse  in  her  bed  room,  located  on  the 
second  floor.  Never  suspecting  that  boys  appealing  for 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


69 


assistance  would  turn  into  ingrates,  she  left  the  front  door 
ajar.  The  next  moment  Jim  almost  sank  to  the  floor  when 
he  saw  Danny  sneak  into  the  house,  enter  the  nearest  room, 
and  just  as  the  lady  descended  the  stairs,  dart  back  to  his 
former  place  upon  the  porch,  holding  a  silver  spoon  in  his 
hand,  which  he  hid  in  his  pocket.  After  the  lady  had  paid 
him  for  a  needle  case  they  left. 

Danny  repeated  this  disgraceful  trick  of  basest  in¬ 
gratitude  at  several  other  houses.  Then  he  coaxed  Jim 
into  making  the  lying  appeal  necessary  to  sell  the  needle 
cases,  and  whenever  Jim  managed  to  make  a  sale  Danny’s 
praises  knew  no  bounds.  Finally  Danny  had  just  one 
needle  case  left  out  of  the  stock  Jocko  had  handed  to  him 
to  peddle,  and  while  they  waited  before  the  open  entrance 
door  of  a  palatial  residence  for  the  return  of  the  lady  of  the 
house,  who  had  left  them  to  find  her  pocketbook,  and 
whose  footfalls  they  could  hear  as  she  descended  the  stair¬ 
way  leading  into  the  basement  of  her  home,  Danny  deliber¬ 
ately  pushed  the  unsuspecting  Jim  through  the  half-open 
door  into  the  hall  of  the  mansion,  and  told  him  in  a  whisper 
that  if  he  did  not  steal  something  he  “would  tell  Kansas 
Shorty.’’ 

In  all  his  past  life  Jim  had  never  stolen  a  single  cent’s 
worth  of  other  people’s  property,  but  with  Danny  threaten¬ 
ing  to  tell  Kansas  Shorty  should  he  refuse  to  do  as  told,  and 
remembering  the  cruel  pounding  he  had  received  at  the 
hands  of  this  fiend  only  such  a  short  time  before,  and  the 
warning  ere  he  and  Danny  set  out  upon  their  begging  trip 
to  do  exactly  as  Danny  ordered,  he  realized  that  perhaps 
another  far  more  brutal  beating  would  be  his  should  he 
disobey  Danny’s  command. 

Before  him  was  an  open  door,  and  when  he  entered  the 
room  he  found  it  to  be  the  parlor.  Looking  about  he  saw 
a  glittering  gpld  watch  lying  upon  the  piano,  and  picked 
it  up,  and  gazed  at  it  for  a  moment.  “No,  I  must  not 
disgrace  my  honest  name  by  becoming  a  common  thief 
for  the  mere  sake  of  furnishing  sodden  wretches  with  rum,” 


70  The  Trail  of  the  Tramp, 

he  mused,  but  while  he  hesitated  he  heard  the  footfalls  of 
the  lady  of  the  house  as  she  ascended  the  stairs,  then  the 
fear  of  the  terrible  punishment  that  would  be  his  if  he  dis¬ 
obeyed  conquered  his  honesty  and  he  slipped  the  time 
piece  into  his  pocket  and  joined  Danny  at  the  entrance. 

When  the  lady  of  the  house  came  to  the  door  she 
handed  Danny  a  bright  silver  dollar  and  when  he  wanted 
to  give  her  the  needle  case  she  refused  to  take  it  from  him, 
and  while  tears  of  pity  streamed  down  her  face  she  said: 
“May  God  forbid  that  I  take  from  you  poor  unfortunate 
boys  an  article  that  you  could  dispose  of  to  others,  and  thus 
further  assist  your  starving  parents”,  and  before  the  lads 
could  utter  a  sound  she  had  shut  the  door  in  their  faces. 

It  was  now  half  past  eleven  in  the  morning,  and  as 
road  kids  do  “housework”  only  between  nine  and  this  time 
of  the  day,  as  after  these  hours  the  police  commence 
to  be  more  active  and  the  ladies  become  far  less  inclined 
to  listen  to  a  tale  of  distress,  they  went  back  to  the  plinger’s 
headquarters. 

In  strict  accordance  with  the  unwritten  code  of  the  road 
although  Jocko,  his  ugly-visaged  jocker,  was  amongst  those 
in  the  room,  Danny  paid  not  the  least  attention  to  his 
presence,  but  stepped  up  to  the  table  upon  which  an  empty 
tin  plate  had  been  placed  for  just  this  purpose,  and  de¬ 
posited  upon  it  every  cent  he  had  in  his  pockets  and  what¬ 
ever  he  had  pilfered  from  the  houses. 

Danny  now  told  Jim  to  place  the  watch  he  had  stolen 
upon  the  tin  plate,  which  he  did.  Kansas  Shorty  picked 
it  up  and  estimated  its  value  at  not  less  than  one  hundred 
dollars,  and  then  praised  Jim  for  having  upon  his  first  raid 
proven  himself  to  be  a  first-class  road  kid,  and  that  the 
gang  was  proud  to  call  him  a  pal.  When  Jim  was  out 
of  hearing  Danny  received  much  praise  for  having  turned 
an  honest  boy  into  a  beggar  and  a  thief  by  the  same  methods 
t  at  he  had  been  taught  by  his  jocker  and  other  road  kids. 

So  quickly  had  these  rum-soaked,  heartless  monsters 
converted  an  absolutely  harmless  lad  into  a  criminal,  that 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


71 


Jim  pleaded  with  Kansas  Shorty  to  permit  him  to  try  un¬ 
assisted  to  peddle  needle  cases.  He  was  not  accorded  this 
privilege,  but  was  sent  out  with  a  boy  nicknamed  “Snippy”. 
This  boy  had  a  most  repulsive  looking  sore  upon  his  arm, 
reaching  from  the  wrist  four  inches  upward.  His  graft 
consisted  of  visiting  offices  located  in  the  business  district 
and  showing  to  persons  this  noisome  sore,  and  then  handing 
them  the  begging  letter  his  jocker  had  faked  for  him,  he 
collected  alms,  while  at  the  same  time  he  contorted  his 
face  as  if  suffering  agony  from  his  “disease”. 

When  they  returned  to  the  hangout  at  the  end  of  his 
working  hours  at  2  p.  m.,  as  the  afternoon  mails  made 
charity  calls  of  this  class  unprofitable,  Jim  was  given  his 
third  lesson  by  a  lad  who  went  by  the  hobo  name  of  “Span¬ 
ish  John.” 

On  the  preceding  evening  John  and  Jim  had  played 
catch  ball  in  the  hallway  and  the  way  John  chased  after  a 
ball  he  had  failed  to  catch  caused  Jim  to  greatly  admire  the 
boy’s  agility. 

But  this  morning  John  certainly  looked  for  all  the 
world  as  if  he  had  passed  through  a  long  war.  He  upheld 
his  body  by  means  of  a  pair  of  crutches  and  his  face  was  all 
furrowed  as  if  he  were  suffering  agony,  while  his  left  foot 
was  drawn  high  above  the  ground  just  as  if  a  cannon  ball 
had  made  its  acquaintance,  and  it  was  with  such  a  sad 
voice  that  he  called  to  Jim  to  follow  him,  that  Jim  felt  so 
sorry  for  John  he  forgot  to  ask  him  what  had  happened  to 
him  since  both  chased  the  elusive  ball  in  the  hallway. 

Spanish  John  had  a  sore  upon  his  left  leg  just  like 
Snippy  had  upon  his  arm,  and  he  used  this  sore,  assisted  by 
small  cards  called  “duckets”,  upon  which  an  “appeal”  was 
printed,  to  swindle  honest  and  well  meaning  people  out  of 
money.  Proprietors  of  stores  and  shops  were  his  favorites. 
When  supper  time  approached  and  while  upon  their  way 
back  to  the  plingers’  quarters,  after  they  had  left  the  busi¬ 
ness  section,  John  handed  his  crutches  to  Jim  to  carry,  and 
told  the  astounded  lad,  who  supposed  John  had  actually 


72  The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 

been  crippled,  that  limping  with  crutches  was  a  most 
tiresome  job.” 

Everyone  of  the  road  kids  had  been  trained  by  his 
jocker  to  become  a  specialist  in  some  particular  brand  of 
the  begging  game.  One  of  them  had  around  his  arm  a 
plaster  of  Paris  casting,  that  during  his  begging  trips 
would  be  filled  with  cotton  upon  which  a  few  drops  of  car¬ 
bolic  acid  or  some  other  “medicinally”  smelling  liquid  had 
been  poured,  to  give  the  “phoney”  broken-arm  trick  a  cloak 
of  respectability.  When  not  at  “work”  the  “dummy  was 
shoved  far  above  the  boy’s  elbow  and  tied  so  that  it  did 
not  interfere  with  his  playing  “tag”,  and  other  boyish  games. 

A  simple-faced  chap,  but  one  who  knew  the  game  from 
A  to  Z,  played  the  deaf  and  dumb  game,  for  which  purpose 
his  jocker  had  forced  him  to  learn  the  sign  language. 
Another  boy  had  been  taught  to  throw  his  hand  and  fingers 
so  far  “out  of  joint”  that  a  real  crippled-for-life  paralytic 
could  not  have  improved  upon  the  deceptive  deformity. 
Both  of  these  lads  used  duckets,  pencils,  shoestrings  and 
thimbles  as  an  addition  to  their  mute  appeals,  although 
it  is  a  well-known  fact  that  no  genuinely  afflicted  paralyt¬ 
ics  or  mutes,  least  of  all  boys,  ever  resort  to  begging  for 
their  living. 

In  the  evening  after  supper  had  been  served  and  things 
had  somewhat  quieted  down  in  the  rooms,  almost  dum- 
founded  by  surprise  Jim  watched  Snippy’s  jocker  paint  a 
strong  solution  of  lye  into  the  dreadful  sore — known  in  the 
hobo  vernacular  as  a  “jigger” — upon  the  road  kid’s  arm. 
The  poor  little  lad  shrieked  with  pain  as  the  acid  ate  into 
his  quivering  flesh,  which  deepened  the  wound  still  more 
and  gave  it  a  “fresh”  look,  which  greatly  added  to  its 
horrid  repulsiveness  so  as  to  all  the  more  arouse  the  pity 
of  those  from  whom  he  would  be  forced  to  beg  on  the 
coming  morning. 

Joe  made  careful  inquiries  of  one  of  the  friends  he  had 
made  among  the  road  kids,  and  this  boy  told  him  that  often¬ 
times  these  inhuman  monsters  continued  the  lye  treatment 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


73 


After  supper  Jim  vmtched  a  liobo  paint  acid  Into  the  dreadful  sore 
upon  Snippy’s  arm  and  heard  the  little  lad  shriek  with  pain 
W'hen  the  fluid  ate  into  his  quivering  flesh. 


74 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


for  such  a  length  of  time  and  so  fearfully  corroded  their 
helpless  victim’s  limbs,  that  blood-poisoning  set  in  and  made 
amputations  necessary  to  save  their  lives.  The  deeply 
seared,  white  scars  which  these  “jiggers”  leave  during  the 
balance  of  the  road  kids’  natural  lives,  prove  to  those  who 
are  versed  in  the  ways  of  the  road,  in  which  school  of  crime 
a  criminal  branded  with  these  tell-tale  scars  received  his 
first  lesson. 

Just  before  Jim  went  to  rest  for  the  night  upon  one 
of  the  bare  wooden  benches  that  had  been  given  to  him  for 
his  bed,  Kansas  Shorty  warned  him  that  if  he  ever  said  a 
single  word  of  what  had  occurred  since  he  left  Minneapolis, 
or  would  occur  in  the  future,  he  would  not  only  murder  him 
but  would  ramble  to  Rugby  and  tell  his  mother  that  her 
son  had  robbed  a  house,  and  then  he  pulled  out  his  note¬ 
book  and  repeated  to  Jim  his  correct  name  and  ad¬ 
dress,  which  the  boy  had  in  his  innocence  given  him  at  the 
Golden  Rule  Hotel. 

The  poor  lad  first  shuddered  with  terror  as  he  thought 
how  his  poor  mother  would  suffer  should  she  be  informed 
how  he  had  disgraced  her,  then  he  snuggled  close  to  the 
black-souled  fiend  and  solemnly  promised  never  to  divulge 
a  single  word  to  any  mortal. 

The  following  morning  Kansas  Shorty  gave  Jim  a 
package  of  needle  cases  and  in  words  that  Jim  could  not 
misunderstand  ordered  him  not  to  come  “home”  until  every 
one  had  been  peddled. 

Luck  was  with  him.  His  rosy  cheeks  and  his  neat 
appearance  opened  the  hearts  and  loosened  the  purse 
strings  of  charitable  ladies  and  it  was  just  ten  o’clock  when 
he  returned  to  the  hangout,  having  sold  all  of  his  stock. 

Jim  pleaded  to  be  permitted  at  least  until  the  noon  hour 
to  sell  more  needle  cases,  and  his  jocker,  pleased  to  see  the 
the  lad  so  anxious  to  support  an  able-bodied  hobo  loafer  in 
idleness,  consented  and  gave  him  another  supply. 

Again  fortune  favored  him  and  when  a  nearby  clock 
pointed  its  hands  to  a  quarter  of  twelve  he  had  just  one 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


75 


needle  case  left.  He  rang  the  door  bell  of  a  residence,  and 
as  if  luck  was  with  him,  the  lady  of  the  house,  a  matron 
with  snowy  hair  and  features  which  in  every  line  bespoke 
the  kind-heartness  of  her  soul,  opened  the  door.  After 
he  had  explained  to  her  his  errand,  she  took  the  needle  case 
out  of  his  hand  and  then  told  him  to  await  her  return  as 
she  had  left  her  pocket  book  in  her  bed  room  upon  the  sec¬ 
ond  floor  of  her  home.  She  went,  leaving  the  front  door 
ajar. 

Jim  heard  the  lady  of  the  house  mount  the  stairway, 
then  the  second  flight,  now  she  was  walking  towards  the 
rear  of  the  building,  and  when  he  heard  a  door  slam,  in¬ 
dicating  that  she  had  entered  the  bed  room,  like  a  flash 
of  lightning  an  evil  thought  shot  through  his  mind.  It 
was  just  one  step  to  the  open  parlor  door.  He  craned  his 
head,  and  looked  into  the  parlor,  and  when  he  saw  that  the 
shades  were  drawn,  which  would  prevent  his  being  seen 
from  the  outside,  he  thought  that  this  would  be  a  fine 
chance  to  show  to  Kansas  Shorty,  Danny  and*  all  the  rest 
of  his  “friends’*  how  well  he  had  learned  their  lessons. 

Without  the  least  hesitation  he  stepped  into  the  semi¬ 
darkness  of  the  parlor,  where  his  eyes  were  attracted  by 
the  gleaming  steel  of  a  large  caliber  revolver  lying  upon  the 
center  table.  He  heard  the  lady’s  footfalls  as  she  descend¬ 
ed  from  the  second  flight  of  stairs,  and  quickly  reaching  out 
his  hand  he  picked  up  the  pistol  and  slipped  it  into  his 
pocket.  He  then  turned  about  to  quietly  take  his  former 
place  before  the  front  door,  but  just  as  he  turned,  he  felt 
a  pair  of  hands  grip  him  from  behind  by  the  throat.  He 
struggled  hard  to  free  himself  from  the  ever  tightening 
grip,  and  then  lost  consciousness. 

When  he  opened  his  eyes  he  found  he  was  lying  upon 
the  floor  in  the  entrance  hall  of  the  residence,  and  he  gazed 
upon  two  pairs  of  handcuffs,  one  of  which  was  clasped 
around  his  wrists,  while  the  other  held  his  ankles  in  their 
steel  embrace,  while  above  him,  watching  his  every  move¬ 
ment,  was  a  man  dressed  in  the  uniform  of  a  captain  of 


76 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


police  who  in  a  most  menacing  manner  fingered  the  trigger 
of  a  revolver,  which  Jim  recognized  as  the  same  weapon 
that  he  had  attempted  to  steal  off  the  parlor  table. 

Jim  could  not  speak,  as  his  badly  crushed  throat  would 
not  permit  this  even  had  he  wished  to  do  so,  but  he 
further  saw  the  same  charitable  lady  who  had  been  so 
willing  to  purchase  his  last  needle  case,  bending  over  him, 
and  while  she  looked  at  him  as  he  lay  there  upon  the  floor 
before  her,  handcuffed  like  a  hardened,  dangerous  criminal, 
he  heard  her  plead  with  him.  “Boy,”  she  said,  while  her 
pitying  eyes  looked  straight  into  his  own,  “is  there  not 
somewhere  in  this  world  a  good  mother  who  has  taught  you 
that  honesty  is  always  the  best  policy?”  And  while  tears 
of  bitter  repentance  commenced  to  course  down  the  poor 
boy’s  cheeks  she  repeated  the  question,  which  caused  the 
now  heart-broken  lad  to  sob  aloud  in  his  anguish. 

A  moment  later  the  police  patrol  was  heard  clanging 
in  the  distance — it  had  been  called  by  telephone.  1 1  stopped 
in  front  of  the  house  and  presently  two  blue-coats  saluted 
their  superior  and  then  picked  up  the  boy,  but  before  they 
carried  him  to  the  waiting  police  patrol  the  captain  told 
them  that  as  he  had  come  home  for  dinner  a-  little  earlier 
than  usual,  he  had  divested  himself  of  his  heavy  pistol 
and  then,  while  he  was  taking  a  mid-day  rest  upon  the 
parlor  lounge  he  had  watched  the  boy  sneaking  into  the 
room,  picking  up  the  revolver  from  the  center  table,  and 
then  he  pictured  to  the  policemen  how  he  had  quietly 
arisen  from  the  lounge  and  like  a  bolt  from  the 
blue  sky  made  a  prisoner  of  the  chap,  whom  he  de¬ 
scribed  as  a  most  dangerous  sneak  thief — he  did  not 
know  the  true  story  of  the  boy’s  past  nor  that  not  two 
weeks  had  elapsed  since  the  samp  handcuffed  lad  would 
have  willingly  laid  down  his  life  before  he  would  have  per¬ 
mitted  himself  to  stoop  so  low  as  to  touch  property  be¬ 
longing  to  another  person  with  the  intention  of  stealing 
same,  nor  was  the  captain  acquainted  with  the  fact  that  a 
tramp  within  an  even  shorter  space  of  time  had  killed  this 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


77 


honesty,  had  spoiled  the  future  and  virtually  wrecked  the 
life  of  the  lad  by  forcing  him  to  become  his  road  kid. 


Within  an  hour’s  time  the  plinger  gang  in  their  rooms 
above  the  slum  saloon  had  been  apprised  by  the  subtle  and 
mysterious  means  v/hich  is  a  sixth  sense  with  criminals, 
that  the  missing  Jim,  who  had  not  shown  up  for  dinner,  was 
behind  the  bars  of  the  city  prison,  and  afraid  that  he  would 
“peach”  they  made  haste  to  vacate  their  quarters  and 
scattered  to  the  four  winds,  each  jocker  taking  his  road  kids 
with  him.  Just  as  they  separated,  while  the  other  scoun¬ 
drels  tried  to  console  Kansas  Shorty  for  having  so  quickly 
been  deprived  of  such  a  good  road  kid  as  Jim  had  proven 
himself  to  be,  he  cheerily  replied  to  their  words  of  consola¬ 
tion:  “There  are  many  more  cities  like  Denver  in  the  States 
and  Canada  where  we  can  ply  our  profession  the  same  as  we 
have  here,  and  there  are  any  number  of  other  people’s 
sons  whom  I  can  entrap  and  can  force  through  fear  of  ex¬ 
posure  and  by  brutality  into  becoming  tramps,  drunkards, 
beggars  and  criminals,  all  at  one  and  the  same  time.” 


They  carried  Jim  to  the  city  prison  and  locked  him  into 
a  dark  dungeon,  from  which,  after  several  hours  of  solitary 
confinement,  three  detectives  took  him  into  the"  chief  of 
police’s  office  and  there  pleaded  v/ith  him  to  reveal  the 
whereabouts  of  his  jocker,  as  they  were  well  aware  that  this 
lad  was  merely  a  tool  in  the  hands  of  some  designing  scoun¬ 
drel,  but  Jim,  as  all  the  other  road  kids  before  him  have  done, 
refused  to  divulge  the  least  word  that  would  have  caused 
his  jocker’s  apprehension. 

Finding  that  pleading  and  threats  were  unavailing, 
the  officers  in  their  efforts  to  catch  the  man  “higher  up” 
swore  at  Jim,  then  cuffed  him  and  finally,  angry  at  the 
stubborn  silence  of  the  boy,  they  beat  him  dreadfully,  but 
even  this  punishment  was  in  vain  for  Jim  ever  repeated 
in  his  mind  at  every  cuff  and  lick  he  received,  that  Kansas 
Shorty  had  his  m.other’s  correct  address  and  that  this 


78 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


scoundrel  would  do  far  worse  than  merely  murder  him, 
should  Jim  fail  to  keep  the  promise  not  to  tell  who  was  his 
jocker. 

Unable  to  extort  a  word  from  Jim  that  would  lead  to 
the  arrest  of  his  jocker,  the  ofhcers  dragged  the  staggering, 
heart-broken  lad  back  to  his  cell  and  locked  him  up.  When 
from  sheer  exhaustion  he  fell  asleep  late  in  the  night,  he 
dreamed  that  Kansas  Shorty’s  grinning  face  was  pressed 
against  his  steel-barred  cell  door.  “Ji^n*  Jim,”  he  could 
distinctly  hear  the  scoundrel  say  mocking  him  in  his  helpless¬ 
ness,  “come  on,  Jim,  let  us  go  and  peddle  needle  cases  and 
loot  more  houses.”  Jim  leaped  from  his  bunk  at  Kansas 
Shorty’s  throat,  as  if  he  were  a  wounded  tiger,  to  strangle 
with  his  bare  hands  the  fiend  who  had  so  wantonly  spoiled 
his  life,  but  he  only  gripped  the  cold  steel  bars  of  his  cell 
and  awakened,  then  as  he  sank  back  upon  the  edge  of  the 
prison-bunk,  he  realized  that  now  it  was  too  late — and  he 
burst  into  bitter  tears. 


CHAPTER  X. 


“Slippery,  the  Yegg.” 


After  slippery,  the  Yegg,  and  Joe  had  parted  company 
with  Kansas  Shorty  and  Jim,  they  walked  leisurely 
southward  upon  the  railroad  track.  For  some  time 
their  conversation  lagged,  as  Slippery  was  absorbed  in 
thoughts  centering  upon  the  boy  whowaswalkingbyhis  side. 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


79 


Slippery  had  up  to  this  moment  lived  strictly  in  accord 
with  the  laws  laid  down  by  the  ‘‘Code  of  Crime”,  the  rules 
of  which,  although  not  printed  and  bound  into  a  costly 
volume,  nor  even  written,  are  nevertheless  strictly  observed 
by  those  who  defy  law  and  order. 

A  tradition  of  this  unwritten  code  was  to  the  effect 
that  a  "wise”  yegg  must  never  have  a  minor  hoboing  with 
him  about  the  country,  as  not  only  would  the 
youngster  be  of  little  value  when  committing  a  crime 
and  a  most  decided  handicap  in  making  a  getaway,  but  the 
greatest  of  danger  lay  in  the  fact  that  should  they  be  ar¬ 
rested,  the  boy  would  be  more  than  likely  to  not  only  reveal 
all  he  knew  of  the  latest  exploit  of  the  yegg  and  tell  every¬ 
thing  he  had  seen  and  heard  since  their  first  day’s  comrade¬ 
ship,  but  he  would  undoubtedly  turn  state’s  evidence,  and 
help  to  send  the  yegg  to  the  penitentiary  for  a  long  term. 
Slippery  also  weighed  the  chances  which  he  faced  should 
he  by  misfortune  “ramble”  into  other  “brethren  of  the 
gun”  who  happened  to  be  abroad  in  the  land,  especially 
along  oft-traveled  routes  like  those  between  St.  Paul  and 
Chicago,  as  they  would  not  only  frown  upon  a  yegg  who 
had  offended  the  ethics  of  their  clan  by  having  a  road  kid 
traveling  with  him,  but  they  would  quickly  spread  the  fact 
broadcast  throughout  the  land  to  the  detriment  of  the 
heretofore  good  reputation  Slippery  had  enjoyed  amongst 
the  numerous  members  of  the  “Fraternity  of  the  Dark 
Lantern.” 

As  a  result  of  these  reflections  he  decided  to  rid  himself 
of  Joe’s  company  as  soon  as  possible,  and  the  easiest  and 
fairest  method  he  could  think  about  to  pull  himself  out 
of  this  dilemma  was  to  find  a  job  for  the  boy  upon  one  of 
the  many  farms  which  were  scattered  along  the  right  of  way. 

After  having  tried  for  hours  to  find  some  sort  of  a  job 
for  the  boy,  Slippery,  thoroughly  disgusted  at  his  vain 
efforts  to  rid  himself  of  his  unwelcome  companion,  whom  he 
considered  by  this  time  a  nuisance,  decided  that  the  next 
best  plan  would  be  to  take  Joe  to  Chicago  and  find  there  a 


80 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


employment  for  him.  Then  the  fact  that  they  were 
supposed  to  meet  the  others  at  the  big  oak  in  the 
evening  flashed  through  his  mind,  and  that  perhaps  on 
account  of  this,  Joe  would  object  to  hoboing  any  sort  of 
train. 

In  furtherance  of  this  plan  Slippery  visited  several 
additional  farm  houses  to  seek  employment  for  the  boy, 
acting  after  each  failure  even  more  discouraged  than  ever 
in  not  being  able  to  find  a  job,  and  his  disgust  increased  to 
such  a  degree,  that  it  finally  became  an  easy  matter  for 
him  to  have  the  lad  consent  that  they  quit  their  resultless 
efforts  in  this  line  and  instead  strive  to  reach  the  “big  oak” 
that  Slippery  assured  Joe  was  growing  close  to  the  right  of 
way  several  miles  to  the  south  of  them,  and  there  meet 
the  others,  whom  he  had  no  doubt  had  had  no  better  success 
in  finding  employment. 

Slippery  now  began  to  paint  in  most  wonderful  colors 
for  his  younger  companion,  word-pictures  of  the  grand 
sights  and  scenes  which  were  awaiting  their  arrival  at  Chica¬ 
go,  and  unintentionally  drifted  into  describing  the  many 
cases  he  had  heard  about,  where  penniless  boys  there  had 
risen  in  a  comparatively  short  time  to  the  rank  of  multi¬ 
millionaires. 

Joe,  who  until  now  paid  more  attention  to  the  rough, 
stone  ballasted  track  beneath  his  feet  that  made  walking  a 
hardship,  became  greatly  interested  in  the  subject  that 
Slippery  had  reached  in  his  conversation,  as  it  concerned 
the  same  matter  that  J  im  and  he  had  threshed  out  so  many 
times  before  they  left  their  section  home  at  Rugby,  and 
when  Slippery  spoke  in  glowing  terms  of  the  many  advan¬ 
tages  that  employment  in  a  large  city  like  Chicago  held  out 
to  a  hustling  lad,  Joe  threw  all  his  troubles  to  the  winds  and 
laid  bare  to  his  older  comrade  every  movement  since  his 
childhood,  and  finally  came  to  the  point  where  he  and  Jim 
had  planned  to  run  away  to  a  city  and  there  by  watching 
for  every  chance  of  advancement  offered  them,  and  by 
saving  every  cent  and  especially  by  adhering  strictly  to 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


81 


honesty,  had  intended  to  work  their  way  up  the  ladder  of 
success  until  they  had  reached  a  respected  and  independent 
position.  After  he  had  paused  to  take  a  second  breath, 
with  a  true  boyish  fervor,  he  commenced  to  build  air- 
castles  as  to  what  he  would  do  when  the  day  arrived  when 
they  would  not  have  to  look  so  closely  to  the  saving  of  their 
pennies.  The  more  enthusiastically  Joe  spoke  of  this 
bright  future,  the  less  he  became  aware  that  his  hopes  had 
caused  the  answers  he  received  to  his  many  questions  he 
asked  his  older  companion  to  become  more  curt  and  sullen, 
nor  did  he  realize  that  every  word  he  spoke  stabbed  Slip¬ 
pery’s  conscience  as  if  it  were  a  two-edged  dagger. 

Slippery,  although  he  belonged  to  the  the  yeggs, 
had  like  ninety-nine  out  of  every  hundred  of  his  kind, 
been  in  his  youth  a  harmless  boy  who  had  been  enticed  by 
some  good-for-nothing  tramp  to  forsake  his  home,  and 
showing  more  ambition  than  to  end  his  days  as  an  alcohol- 
rotted  wreck,  had  drifted  along  with  criminals,  who  for 
the  sake  of  a  few  dollars  or  even  a  handful  of  unused  postage 
stamps  did  not  hesitate  to  commit  murder,  and  who  had 
in  time  taught  Slippery  the  various  divisions  and  sub¬ 
divisions  of  their  dangerous  existence. 

Now  that  Slippery  was  barely  thirty  years  of  age,  he 
was,  although  young  in  years,  old  in  crime  and  had  been  in 
many  collisions  with  those  who  represented  law  and  order, 
and  had  served  many  long  terms  at  hard  labor  behind  the 
stone  walls  of  state  and  federal  penitentiaries. 

One  evening,  just  before  Slippery  had  finished  his  last 
sentence,  after  the  prisoners  had  been  locked  up  for  the 
night,  his  cell-mate  in  a  spirit  of  fun  suggested  that,  to  while 
away  the  time  until  the  lights  would  be  turned  low,  they 
compute  the  average  daily  wage  their  crime-steeped  lives 
had  earned  for  them.  Although  both  were  regarded  by 
their  brethren  of  crime  as  most  successful  in  their  chosen 
profession,  they  found  after  tedious  calculating  that 
the  average  daily  wage  of  their  miserable  existence 
since  the  day  they  left  their  homes  had  been  a  fraction  less 


82 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


than  twenty  cents.  In  this  total  they  did  not  include  the 
many  years  they  spent  behind  prison  bars,  performing, 
without  pay,  ambition  crushing  toil  under  the  eyes  of  brutal 
guards,  fed  upon  poor  food,  sleeping  in  unhealthy  quarters, 
dressed  in  coarse,  zebra-striped  suits  and  ruled  by  a  most 
cruel  discipline,  all  of  which  they  were  unable  to  reduce  to 
a  dollar  and  cents  basis. 

Until  that  evening  his  bosom  friends  had  been  other 
equally  desperate  criminals,  as  misery  loves  company,  but 
even  few  of  these  could  he  trust,  as  “stool  pigeons  far 
outnumbered  those  whom  he  could  imphcitely  depend 
upon  and  even  amongst  the  few,  only  too  many  were 
snatched  from  his  side  by  the  stern  hand  of  the  law  to  linger 
for  years  in  penal  institutions,  if  they  did  not  become  tar¬ 
gets  for  revolvers  or  were  strangled  upon  a  gallows.  The 
more  he  thought  of  this  shady  side  of  his  past,  the  more 
changed  became  the  point  of  view  with  which  he 
judged  the  rest  of  the  world.  The  laborer  whom 
he  saw  in  the  early  morning  swinging  his  dinner 
pail  while  with  light  steps  he  marched  to  the  daily 
task  in  mill  and  factory,  and  whom  he  watched  in  the  even¬ 
ing’s  dusk  after  the  factory  sirens  had  blown  the  v/orking 
man’s  curfew,  hurrying  home  anxious  to  reach  his  humble 
fireside,  and  for  whom  heretofore  he  had  only  known  feel¬ 
ings  of  deepest  contempt,  suddenly  had  become  a  man  who 
benefitted  preciously  far  more  of  his  life  than  any  yegg  he 
could  recall. 

A  strange  yearning  to  join  those  who  carried  the  din¬ 
ner  pails  and  who  had  homes  and  firesides  of  their  own  made 
itself  felt,  and  still  later  this  desire  to  foreswear  his  past  and 
reform  became  ever  stronger,  especially  when  one  day  by 
a  singular  chance  he  happened  during  recess  to  pass  a 
school  house,  and  stepping  behind  a  tree  from  where  with  a 
wistful  look  in  his  eyes  he  watched  the  rosy-cheeked,  romp¬ 
ing  children,  while  at  the  same  time  revolting  pictures  of 
his  own  misspent  life  and  thoughts  of  the  far  worse  to-be- 
spent  future,  and  the  fact  that  he  had  been  heretofore 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


83 


his  own  worst  enemy  came  so  strongly  to  his  mind  that  he 
could  barely  keep  himself  from  sobbing. 

From  that  evening  when  he  for  the  first  time  in  his 
v/hole  life,  studied  the  life  of  a  yegg  from  a  commonsense 
and  strictly  commercial  side  and  found  it  in  all  its  phases 
a  losing  game,  dated  the  desire  to  quit  the  life  of  crime  when 
the  first  opportunity  presented  itself,  but  whenever  he 
tried  to  picture  himself  as  having  a  happy  home  of  his  own, 
there,  like  a  black  cloud  suspended  in  a  blue  sky,  came  to 
him  the  knowledge  that  never  more  could  he  hide  his  past, 
for  from  the  moment  that  he  should  endeavor  to  walk  the 
narrow  path,  every  yegg  in  the  land  would  point  to  him  as 
a  former  brother-in-crime,  and  gossiping  tongues  would 
quickly  force  him  back  into  the  fold,  even  while  with  his 
calloused  hands  he  would  be  toiling  to  earn  an  honest  living. 

While  all  of  these  pictures  of  his  past  flashed  through 
his  active  mind  and  the  desire  to  be  for  just  one  time,  a 
man  who  needed  not  to  be  afraid  to  associate  with  honest 
people,  he  attentively  listened  to  the  boy  who  was  just  now 
unfolding  his  plans  for  a  bright  future,  and  who  was  telling 
about  his  section  home  by  the  side  of  the  railroad  track  in 
the  midst  of  the  endless  prairies  of  the  Dakotas,  and  al¬ 
though  he  described  the  siding  of  Rugby  as  being  a  most 
desolate  place,  the  desire  to  reform  became  almost  irresist¬ 
ible  to  Slippery  when  Joe  told  how  every  evening  the  rail¬ 
road  laborers  returned  to  their  humble  quarters  worn  and 
tired  out  by  the  hard  toil  of  the  day,  but  happy  with  the 
satisfaction  that  by  performing  their  task  they  had  added 
their  share  to  the  world’s  work  for  the  common  good  of  all 
humanity 

This  was  the  boy  of  whose  most  unwelcome  company 
only  a  few  minutes  before  Slippery  had  wished  to  rid  himself 
as  he  considered  him  a  serious  handicap  to  his  career  as  a 
professional  criminal,  and  who  was  now  telling  of  his 
plans,  how  he  wished  to  atone  by  leading  an  honest 
life  for  the  wrong  he  had  done  to  his  widowed  mother 
by  leaving  his  home  without  her  consent,  and  as  he 


84 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


continued  to  speak  of  his  hopes  of  a  clean  and  glorious 
living,  the  same  queer  feeling  that  had  attacked  him 
before  came  with  ever  increasing  force  over  Slippery, 
and  it  almost  stunned  him  when  the  lad  with  his  true- 
ringing,  youthful  voice,  exclaimed,  “Slippery,  you  are  go¬ 
ing  to  be  my  partner,  for  all  of  us  working  together  can 
accomplish  much  more  in  Chicago  to  make  our  way  to 
wealth  and  fame  than  we  two  could.  And  then,  when 
we  have  made  our  fortune,  I  will  want  you  to  come  back 
with  us  to  Rugby  and  stay  with  us,  even  if  you  have  to 
buy  for  yourself  a  prairie  farm,  for  I  know  mother  will 
wish  that  you  stop  with  us,  because  she  will  always  thank 
you  for  having  taken  such  good  care  of  her  Joe.” 
After  he  had  given  vent  to  this  boyish  dream  he  paused, 
expecting  to  receive  an  answer  from  his  older  companion, 
but  Slippery  only  nodded  in  assent,  while  at  the  same  time 
he  rubbed  his  eyes  with  his  hands  as  if  tiny  cinders  had 
lodged  in  them.  His  emotions  caused  him  to  avert  his 
face  so  Joe  could  not  see  the  tears  of  repentance  which  his 
hurting  conscience  forced  to  run  down  his  cheeks.  And 
then  his  better  self  got  the  master  hand  over  him  and  he 
silently  swore  that  at  this  moment  had  arrived  the  oft 
wished  for  opportunity  for  him  to  forsake  the  road  and  quit 
the  crooked  game  of  crime. 

Now  came  Slippery’s  time  to  make  plans.  His  first 
thoughts  were  to  discover  the  best  method  to  fullfil  the 
promise  he  had  just  made  to  himself  to  lead  a  new  and 
different  life.  The  best  method  as  it  appeared  to  him  would 
be  for  Joe  and  himself  to  ramble  on  to  Chicago  and  there 
procure  employment,  as  he  realized  that  to  separate  from 
his  younger  companion  would  mean  to  him  a  rapid  drifting 
back  into  his  old  ways.  This  plan  looked  mighty  good  and 
he  slyly  chuckled  as  he  thought  that  it  would  be  only  a 
short  time  until  his  pay  envelope  would  bulge  from  the  sum 
to  which  his  wage  would  quickly  increase,  for  he  felt  as¬ 
sured  that  it  would  be  an  easy  matter  for  him  to  be  advanced 
into  an  ever  better  salaried  position,  for  a  man  who  had  the 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


85 


nerve  to  attempt  to  force  a  living  for  himself  from  the  world 
by  means  of  the  dangerous  ways  of  crime  could  easily  ac¬ 
complish  anything  once  his  perverted  ambitions  were 

» 

directed  into  the  straight  and  narrow  path.  But  suddenly 
his  smiles  ceased  and  he  felt  a  queer  shuddering  sensation 
shake  his  spine,  for  he  thought  of  the  many  criminals 
who  made  their  headquarters  in  Chicago,  and  who 
would  be  only  too  willing  to  spoil  his  plans  to  quit 
their  company  and  reform,  so  as  to  keep  others  of  the 
brotherhood  from  quitting  the  game  and  thereby  making 
it  all  the  more  hazardous  for  hardened  and  irreform- 
able  criminals  to  ply  their  nefarious  vocations.  He 
weighed  the  chances  he  stood  to  reform  in  Chicago  and 
abandoned  the  scheme  as  impracticable. 

Then  Slippery  recalled  Jim’s  narrative  of  his  lone 
prairie  section  home,  and  he  adroitly  questioned  the  lad 
and  discovered  that  the  country  about  Rugby  was  a  deso¬ 
late  prairie,  that  post  offices  and  banks  were  few,  widely 
scattered  and  poorly  patronized,  and  that  Joe  had  never 
heard  of  any  one  of  these  being  robbed,  nor  even  a  residence 
or  farm  house  being  entered,  and  when  the  lad  finished  by 
telling  of  the  fertility  of  the  soil  and  the  fact  that  home¬ 
steads  could  still  be  had  there  for  the  mere  filing  of  the 
necessary  claims.  Slippery  again  became  absorbed  in  his 
thoughts. 

Then  he  had  a  vision.  He  saw  himself  drilling  into 
a  safe.  Then  came  a  dull  explosion  and  when 
the  safe’s  door  was  torn  from  its  hinges  he  saw 
himself  upon  his  knees  filling  a  large  bag  with  the 
gold  coins  which  poured  out  of  the  dynamited  treasure 
box.  Then  he  saw  Joe  and  himself  dressed  in  the  best  that 
money  could  purchase,  speeding  along  aboard  a  Pullman 
to  Rugby,  North  Dakota.  He  felt  the  hearty  hand  grip 
as  Joe’s  mother  thanked  him  for  having  kept  her  boy  from 
coming  to  harm,  and  when  he  saw  himself  the  prosperous 
owner  of  an  immense  and  well  worked  farm,  he  then  and 
there  swore  a  silent  but  nevertheless  solemn  oath  that 


86 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


after  the  next  successful  safe-blowing  exploit  he  would  do 
exactly  as  this  vision  had  showed  him  would  be  the  best 
method  to  turn  over  a  new  page  of  his  life. 

“Lookout,  Slippery,  jump  for  your  life!”  suddenly  came 
a  frightened  cry  from  Joe’s  lips,  and  instinctively  Slippery 
followed  Joe’s  example  and  leaped  oflf  the  track,  upon  which 
they  had  been  so  peacefully  walking,  blissfully  ignorant 
of  how  close  to  death  they  had  come.  In  the  next  fraction 
of  a  second  a  “Limited”  thundered  past  them,  whose  ashen¬ 
faced  engineer  was  frantically  pulling  at  the  whistling  cord 
and  blowing  the  danger  signal,  while  he  shook  an  angry 
fist  at  the  frightened  fellows,  who  had  so  narrowly  escaped 
an  impending  calamity. 

“Joe,”  stammered  Slippery,  when  he  again  found  his 
voice  that  from  sheer  fright  failed  him  for  some  moments, 
“boy,  you  have  saved  my  life  and  come  what  may  I  shall 
stay  and  work  with  you  and  then  after  we  have  made  a 
'stake'  we  will  go  to  Rugby  and  I  shall  buy  a  farm  and 
make  my  home  near  your  home  and  finish  ray  days  in  peace 
and  plenty.” 

From  this  moment  Slippery  became  a  different  kind 
of  companion  to  his  younger  comrade,  and  while  both  now 
entered  into  an  animated  conversation,  Joe  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  Slippery  after  all  was  the  best  chum  he 
had  ever  had.  They  were  so  busily  engaged  picturing  their 
futures,  that  not  until  evening  approached  did  Joe  make  any 
remark  concerning  the  whereabouts  of  the  “big  oak”  where 
they  were  to  meet  Jim  and  Kansas  Shorty. 

They  were  just  approaching  a  water  tank,  the  destina¬ 
tion  Slippery  intended  to  reach,  and  pointing  at  a  large 
oak  close  to  the  track  he  told  Joe  that  it  was  the  place  where 
he  had  agreed  to  meet  the  others.  They  went  over  to  it, 
and  after  they  had  made  for  themselves  some  coffee,  they 
sat  beneath  the  wide  spreading  branches  of  the  oak  and 
while  dusk  turned  into  night  and  the  calls  of  the  owls 
echoed  over  fields  and  moor,  and  the  moon  cast  its  pale 
light  over  the  landscape,  they  patiently  waited  the  arrival 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


87 


‘Jump  for  your  life!”  suddenly  shouted  the  lad,  and  both  leaped  off 
the  track,  escaping  by  a  hair’s  breadth  being  struck  by  the 
flying  passenger  train. 


88 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


of  the  others.  The  longer  they  waited  and  the  more  anxious 
Joe  became  to  meet  his  twin  brother  again,  the  more  Slippery 
denounced  Kansas  Shorty’s  tardiness,  and  when  midnight 
arrived  and  they  heard  in  the  distance  to  the  north  of  them 
the  rumbling  of  a  train.  Slippery  had  so  completely  won 
the  confidence  of  Joe,  that  the  latter  consented  to  accompany 
the  yegg  to  Chicago  without  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  the 
others,  whereupon  Slippery  tore  a  page  out  of  his  memoran¬ 
dum  and  after  writing  on  it  a  brief  note,  telling  Kansas 
Shorty  that  he  and  Joe  had  rambled  into  Chicago,  and  to 
meet  them  there,  he  silenced  any  rising  suspicions  Joe 
might  have  had  that  everything  was  not  all  right  by  pin¬ 
ning  this  note  to  the  trunk  of  the  tree. 

When  the  train,  which  proved  to  be  a  long  string  of 
empty,  open  box  cars,  pulled  southward,  after  having  filled 
its  engine’s  tender  at  the  water  tank.  Slippery  and  Joe  had 
safely  stowed  themselves  away  in  one  of  the  “empties”  and 
were  soon  rolling  on  towards  Chicago,  and  had  become  a 
most  contented  pair  of  hobo-partners. 

Early  on  the  third  morning  they  landed  at  Chicago,  and 
Joe  found  that  Slippery’s  tales  as  to  the  magnitude  of  this 
city  had  not  been  exaggerated,  for  they  rode  hours  and  miles 
upon  horseless  “cable”  cars  before  Slippery  beckoned  to 
Joe  to  follow  him,  as  they  had  arrived  at  their  destination, 
the  center  of  the  city’s  business  district. 

After  eating  their  breakfast  in  a  restaurant,  they  saun¬ 
tered  through  the  streets  to  see  the  sights.  While  they 
walked  aimlessly  about  the  city.  Slippery  acted  at  times  so 
strangely  that  he  called  the  attention  of  Joe  to  him,  who 
did  not  suspect  the  reason  of  his  singular  demeanor,  nor 
that  he  was  walking  with  a  man  who  in  police  circles  had 
earned  a  well  merited  reputation  of  being  one  of  the  most 
desperate  criminals  in  the  land.  Whenever  Slippery  would 
spot  a  policeman  ahead  of  him  he  would  turn  into  an  alley 
or  by-way  to  avoid  passing  the  guardian  the  law.  At 
other  times,  just  after  they  had  passed  some  well  dressed 
and  often  really  benign  looking  citizen.  Slippery  would 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


89 


roughly  nudge  him  and  whisper,  “that  was  one  of  those ‘fly 
mugs’ — a  detective”,  and  then  it  would  be  some  moments 
before  he  reverted  to  his  former  cheerfulness,  proving  to 
Joe  how  much  he  feared  or  despised  those  who  uphold  the 
law. 

The  ringing  of  the  church  bells  had  just  announced  the 
noon  hour,  when  Slippery  was  stopped  in  the  street  by  a 
neatly  attired  gentleman,  who,  after  they  had  most  cor¬ 
dially  shaken  hands,  entered  into  a  whispered  conversation, 
which  Joe  overheard. 

“Hello,  Slippery,  old  boy,  when  did  you  find  your 
way  back  to  Chicago?”  were  the  first  words  of  the 
stranger’s  greeting,  who  acted  as  if  he  were  greatly  pleased 
with  the  return  of  Joe’s  pal  to  the  “Windy  City.”  “I  too 
am  glad  to  be  once  more  where  one’s  eyes  do  not  tire  look¬ 
ing  into  nothingness,  bounded  only  by  the  horizon  and  the 
blue  sky,”  answered  Slippery,  and  then  in  a  whisper,  he 
added:  “Say,  Boston  Frank,  give  me  a  square  tip  where 
Bunko  Bill’s  gang  is,  so  I  can  find  a  temporary  hangout 
until  I  get  straight  as  to  the  lay  of  the  land.”  “Oh,  is  that 
what  you  wish  to  know.  Slippery?  Well  they  are  in  a 
private  flat  on  South  Clark,  just  below  LaSalle  Street,  second 
house  from  the  corner,  on  the  fifth  floor,  and  a  dandy 
place  at  that,  but,”  here  he  paused  and  with  an  ill-disguised 
look  of  resentment  he  stared  at  Joe  and  then  queried :  “Slip- 
ery,  whose  boy  have  you  toting  along  with  you?’  And 
as  Slippery  did  not  promptly  answer  him  he  added  with 
contempt  in  his  voice,  “I  always  understood  that  only  a 
low-lived  plinger  dragged  a  road  kid  about  with  him  and 
never  a  proper  crook.”  Then  to  Joe’s  terror,  he  heard  the 
man  whom  he  had  until  this  moment  taken  to  be  as  honor¬ 
ably  as  his  own  late  father  answer:  “Boston  Frank,  this  lad 
is  the  wisest  and  shrewdest  young  crook  that  ever  walked 
the  streets  of  Chicago.”  This  explanation  pleased  Bos¬ 
ton  Frank,  who  now  asked  Slippery  to  introduce  him  to 
the  lad,  which  the  former  did,  using  his  new  nickname, 
“Dakota  Joe.”  Listening  to  their  further  conversation, 


90 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


to  his  horror  Joe  became  for  the  first  time  aware  that  Slip¬ 
pery  was  not  a  man  looking  for  an  honest  job,  but  a 
criminal  whose  dislike  for  the  police,  which  he  had  so 
openly  manifested,  was  the  natural  result  of  the  life  he  had 
been  leading.  Joe  decided  to  keep  this  unpleasant  discov  • 
ery  to  himself,  as  he  was  a  penniless  lad  in  the  center  of 
an  immense  city. 

When  they  parted  company  with  Boston  Frank,  Slip¬ 
pery  and  Joe  found  the  house  that  he  had  described  to  be 
the  “gang’s”  hangout,  and  after  they  had  climbed  five 
flights  up  a  narrow  stairway,  Slippery  rang  the  dooi 
bell  of  a  flat.  A  shutter  in  the  panel  of  the 
door  that  fitted  so  perfectly  into  an  opening 
that  Joe  did  not  observe  its  presence  before,  was  with¬ 
drawn  and  from  behind  a  heavy  ware  screen  a  pair  of 
glistening,  suspicious  eyes  searched  their  faces,  and  then  a 
voice  demanded  what  they  desired.  Instead  of  an  answer 
Slippery  gave  some  differently  sounding  knocks  upon  the 
panel  above  the  screened  opening  and  whispered,  “It’s  I, 
Slippery,  the  yegg.’' 

Joe  could  distinctly  hear  the  same  person  who  had 
carefully  replaced  the  shutter  over  the  once  more  invisible 
spy-opening  unbolt,  then  unlock  and  finally  slowly  open 
the  door,  and  after  she,  a  middle-aged  woman,  had  again 
most  suspiciously  scanned  the  features  of  her  visitors,  she 
permitted  Slippery  and  Joe  to  slip  within  the  slightly 
opened  door,  that  she  promptly  shut,  and  then  bolted  and 
carefully  locked,  as  if  the  flat,  instead  of  a  home  for  human 
beings  was  a  safe-deposit  vault  of  an  immensely  rich  bank. 

“Hello,  Marie,”  Slippery  addressed  the  woman  after 
she  had  tried  the  door  knob  to  assure  herself  that  the  steel 
sheeted  door  was  as  correctly  closed  as  before  she  opened  it, 
“how  are  you  and  the  rest  of  the  gang?”  And  while  they 
shook  hands  Joe  looked  about  in  the  semi-darkness  of  the 
hallway  trying  to  see  some  members  of  the  gang  Slippery 
had  spoken  about  when  he  inquired  of  Boston  Frank  as 


91 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 

to  their  whereabouts,  and  about  whom  he  had  just  repeated 
the  question,  which  to  Joe  seemed  odd  because  there  was 
not  a  sound  to  be  heard  In  the  flat,  that,  as  it  was  supposed 
to  be  the  home  of  a  “gang”,  should  have  at  least  shown 
these  signs  of  human  habitation. 

After  the  woman  and  Slippery  had  exchanged  other 
brief  greetings  all  three  went  towards  the  rear  of  the  hall¬ 
way,  and  here  she  opened  a  door  and  bade  them  enter, 
and  by  the  brilliant  illumination  they  sav/  it  v.^as  the  dming 
room  of  the  flat.  Around  its  well  provisioned  dinner  table 
were  seated  a  number  of  men  and  women  who  in  a  most 
friendly,  but  noise  avoiding  manner,  greeted  Slippery 
and  while  they  questioned  him  as  to  his  latest  movements, 
they  gave  Joe  a  chance  to  recover  from  the  surprise  that 
completely  shocked  him,  when  he  discovered  that  this 
strangely  secluded  flat  v/as  the  home  of  seven  men  and  four 
women,  all  of  the  latter — with  the  exception  of  the  woman 
who  had  opened  the  door — being  barely  more  than  young 
girls. 


92 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 

CHAPTER  XI. 

“The  Wages  of  Sin  is  Death.” 

“lOOK  here,  friends,”  remarked  one  of  the  men  seated  a  t 
I  the  table,  who  was  dressed  in  the  height  of  fashion , 
and  later  proved  to  be  the  leader  of  the  others,  afterhe 
had  greeted  Slippery  and  had  for  a  brief  moment  gazed  at 
Joe,  “Slippery  has  brought  a  road  kid  along  with  him,  no 
doubt  intending  to  imitate  the  ways  of  the  accursed  pling- 
ers  and  add  another  tramp  to  those  who  already  hobo 
about  the  country.”  Slippery,  to  whom  this  tart 
rebuke  was  addressed,  now  explained  that  the  lad  by  his 
side  was  his  “pal”,  and  not  his  road  kid;  this  explanation 
seemed  to  satisfy  the  speaker  for  he  stretched  out  his  hand 
and  greeted  Joe  in  a  most  cordial  manner,  while  Slippery 
introduced  him  to  the  party,  not  by  his  honest  Christian 
name,  but  by  his  road  name,  “Dakota  Joe”.  But  the  next 
moment  a  far  greater  surprise  was  in  store  for  the  boy  when 
Slippery  commenced  to  introduce  him  to  the  well  attired 
gentlemen  and  richly  gowned  ladies,  whom  he  supposed, 
judging  by  their  general  appearance,  were  far  removed  from 
the  level  they  had  chosen  for  themselves,  for  presently 
Slippery  announced  the  name  of  the  “gentleman”  with 
whom  he  had  just  shaken  hands  as  “Bunko  Bill”,  and  Joe’s 
unpleasant  suspicions  that  he  had  been  led  into  a  nest  of 
human  vipers  were  greatly  increased  when  his  pal  called 
off  the  names  of  the  other  inmates  of  the  flat.  The  nearest 
fellow  was  “Brooklyn  Danny,  the  Dip” ;  the  next  one  went 
by  the  name  of  “Buffalo  Johnny,  the  Strong  Arm  Man”; 
the  fourth  responded  to  “Ohio  Jack,  the  Sneak”;  a  neat 
looking  fellow  who  sported  a  diamond  stud  upon  his  shirt 
bosom  answered  to  the  appropriate  name  of  “Diamond 
Al”;  while  the  criminal  tendencies  of  the  sixth  were  plainly 
stamped  in  his  nickname,  “Niagara  Swifty,  the  Shop 
Lifter”,  while  the  last  one,  a  red-haired,  wary-looking  chap 
answered  to  the  rather  suggestive  name  of  “Atlanta  Jerry, 
the  Hold-Up.” 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


93 


Joe,  who  had  heard  at  home  the  section  men  tell  about 
the  “monicker”  every  tramp  bore,  could  not  help  but  note 
that  these  “names-de-crime”  which  Slippery  had  just  now 
given  as  the  ones  with  which  these  gentlemen  addressed 
each  other,  so  very  closely  resembled  those  used  by  the 
hoboes  that  perhaps  every  one  of  the  men  before  him  had 
formerly  been  a  road  kid. 

The  boy’s  astonishment  was  greatly  increased  when 
next  Slippery  introduced  the  “ladies”.  The  one  who  so 
cautiously  opened  the  door  for  their  entrance  was  honored 
by  the  name  of  “Dippy  Marie”;  the  second  on  account  of 
the  color  of  her  hair  was  known  as  “Red  Annie”;  while  a 
third  was  titled  “Noisy  Jane”  and  the  last,  the  youngest 
and  best  looking  one  of  them,  went  by  the  nickname  of 
“Babe^’. 

After  this  introduction  Bunko  Bill  invited  Slippery 
and  Joe  to  make  their  home  with  them  during  their  sojourn 
in  Chicago,  which  offer  was  readily  accepted  and  then  all 
sat  down  to  dine.  After  dinner  Slippery  under  the  pre¬ 
tense  of  wishing  to  show  Joe  the  city,  managed  to  keep  out 
of  complications  which  might  have  been  caused  by  some  of 
the  inmates  too  closely  questioning  the  lad,  and  he  took  the 
boy  for  a  walk  to  the  nearby  shores  of  Lake  Michigan. 

After  Joe  had  enjoyed  for  some  time  the  beauty  of  the 
marine  scenery  that  spread  like  a  gigantic  panorama  before 
his  eyes,  he  broke  the  silence  by  bluntly  asking  Slippery 
how  and  when  they  were  to  meet  his  brother  Jim.  Slippery 
assured  Joe  and  quieted  him  by  saying  that  it  would 
be  merely  a  matter  of  days  before  they  would  meet  Jim  in 
the  street  in  the  same  manner  that  they  had  met  Boston 
Frank. 

They  returned  to  the  flat  in  time  to  join  the  others  at 
supper,  and  after  this  had  been  served  Joe  wondered  why 
one  after  another,  all  the  members  of  the  gang  cautiously 
slipped  out  of  the  door  and  vanished  down  the  stairway 
with  the  sole  exception  of  ‘‘Dippy  Marie”,  who  showed 
them  to  their  bedroom^. 


94 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


In  the  morning  Boston  Frank  made  a  call  at  the  flat, 
and  behind  locked  doors  had  a  long  conference  with  Slippery 
and  the  others.  After  his  visit  Slippery  became  a  busy 
man  and  Joe  watched  him  oiling,  filing  and  tempering  a 
collccLion  of  jimmies,  nippers,  wedges,  pliers,  saws,  and 
other  such  tools  for  which  an  expert  mechanic  could  find  a 
proper  use.  W^hen  Joe  carelessly  picked  up  a  small  bottle 
that  stood  upon  the  table  before  Slippery,  the  yegg’s  face 
turned  pale,  and  then  he  explained  to  the  boy  who  too  com¬ 
menced  to  shudder  the  longer  he  listened,  that  the  harmless 
looking  liquid  in  the  bottle  was  fearfully  dangerous  nitro¬ 
glycerine. 

The  following  afternoon  Boston  Frank  made  a  second 
visit  and  then  he  and  Slippery,  each  carrying  a  heavy 
satchel  filled  with  the  tools  Slippery  had  so  carefully  looked 
after,  followed  by  Joe,  around  whose  left  leg  they  had 
bandaged,  despite  his  most  vehement  protests,  the  small 
bottle  containing  the  deadly  explosive,  left  the  flat. 
They  took  a  street  car  to  the  railroad  station,  where  Boston 
Frank  purchased  tickets  to  Dixon,  one  of  the  prettiest  and 
most  hustling  cities  in  western  Illinois.  Soon  they  were 
rolling  out  of  the  railroad  yards  and  across  the  fertile  plains 
and  arrived  at  their  destination  late  in  the  night. 

They  left  the  train  from  the  rear  platform  of  the  last 
Pullman,  and  climbed  to  the  ground  from  the  opposite 
side  of  the  station  platform,  and  after  they  had  hurriedly 
walked  about  a  mile  in  the  darkness,  Boston  Frank  stopped 
at  a  barn,  and  while  Slippery  and  Joe  walked  ahead,  he 
noiselessly  opened  the  barn  door  and  after  hitching  the 
owner’s  fastest  horse  to  his  best  buggy  he  leisurely  over-  t 

took  the  others  and  made  them  climb  in,  after  they  had  g 

placed  the  heavy  satchels  in  the  buggy’s  body,  and  then  | 
he  carefully  drove  the  horse  on  into  the  night.  | 

During  their  conversation,  which  Joe  overheard,  Bos-  / 
ton  Frank  mentioned  to  Slippery  that  the  “P.-O.”  had  | 
been  reported  to  be  a  regular  mint,  and  he  repeatedly  as-  f 
gured  him  that  no  one  was  sleeping  in  the  '‘P.-O.”  as  he  f 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


95 


had  tried  several  nights  in  succession  to  purchase  tobacco 
at  the  ^T.-O.”,  but  his  knocks  were  not  answered. 

At  a  cross-roads  country  store  they  stopped  and  here 
Joe  understood  what  Boston  Frank  had  meant  with  “P.-O.”, 
as  it  bore  a  large  sign  that  had  the  words  ‘Tost  Office” 
painted  upon  it. 

While  Boston  Frank  hitched  the  horse  and  buggy  to 
a  nearby  tree,  Slipper^/-  carried  the  heavy  satchels  contain¬ 
ing  the  tools  to  the  rear  of  the  store,  while  he  ordered  Joe 
to  carefully  unwrap  the  nitro-glycerine  bottle  from  his  leg, 
which  the  boy  gladly  did  to  be  rid  of  the  dangerous  explo¬ 
sive,  and  then  handed  it  to  Slippery. 

Joe,  who  had  not  yet  the  least  inkling  what  sort  of 
mysterious  night  work  was  contemplated  by  his  older 
companions,  suddenly  came  to  the  realization  of  his  own 
danger  when  Slippery  in  a  decidedly  unfriendly  manner, 
roughly  commanded  him  to  stand  guard  in  front  of  the 
store,  and  after  he  had  placed  the  lad  so  he  could  scan  the 
different  roads,  he  did  something  that  has  made  more  blood 
thirsty  desperadoes  out  of  harmless  boys  than  any  other 
trick,  he  pressed  a  cocked,  large  calibered  revolver  into  the 
unsuspecting  boy’s  hand  and  curtly  ordered  him,  under 
pain  of  losing  his  own  life  if  he  failed  to  obey  this  order, 
to  blaze  away  at  any  approaching  human  being.  Then  he 
disappeared  towards  the  rear  of  the  building. 

For  a  moment  Joe’s  brain  worked  overtime,  especially 
when  he  looked  at  the  murder  tool  the  other  fellow  had 
placed  into  his  trembling  hand  and  he  promptly  decided 
to  cast  the  pistol  into  the  middle  of  the  roadway  and  run 
for  his  life  to  escape  not  only  the  clutches  of  these  fellows, 
whom  he  now  realized  were  desperate  robbers,  but  to  es¬ 
cape  a  possibly  far  worse  fate.  Just  as  he  started  to 
follow  out  this  idea.  Slippery  stepped  around  the  corner, 
and  after  he  once  more  warned  the  lad  not  to  falter  in  shoot¬ 
ing  to  kill,  he  gave  Joe  a  spool  of  fine  copper  wire  to  hold 
and  when  the  surprised  boy  wished  to  know  the  reason,  he 
showed  Joe  where  he  had  the  other  of  the  snme  wire 


96 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


twisted  about  his  wrist,  and  cautioned  him  to  hold  it  taut 
and  that  every  time  he  gave  the  wire  a  sharp  pull  the  boy 
should  answer  with  the  same  signal,  and  that  if  he  saw 
anyone  approaching  several  sharp  pulls  should  be  the  dan¬ 
ger  signal.  Then  he  again  left  the  lad,  and  whenever  he 
tugged  on  the  wire  Joe  answered  with  the  agreed  signal, 
and  by  this  simple  means  Slippery  had  not  only  forced  a 
harmless  boy  to  do  dangerous  outpost  duty,  and  was  as¬ 
sured  that  he  was  always  on  guard,  but  what  was  most  im¬ 
portant,  he  had  a  noiseless  danger  signal  that,  even  should 
the  boy  fail  to  kill  somebody,  he  would  thus  notify  the 
robbers  that  all  was  not  well  and  give  them  plenty  of  time 
and  a  far  better  chance  to  make  their  getaway  than  the 
boy  himself  had,  especially  if  he  “shot  to  kill”,  as  he  had 
been  commanded  to  do,  which  would  have  meant  a  long 
term  behind  the  prison  bars  if  not  a  trip  by  the  route 
of  the  hangman’s  rope. 

While  Joe  had  thus  been  forced  to  become  their  in¬ 
voluntary  accomplice,  the  two  yeggs  pried  open  the  rear 
entrance  of  the  store,  and  then  Slippery  worked  at  his  pro¬ 
fession  of  safe  blowing.  When  all  had  been  made  ready  to 
explode  the  charge,  they  carried  the  satchels  with 
their  tools  out  of  the  store  and  placed  them  in  the  buggy 
and  made  everything  ready  for  an  instant  escape.  Boston 
Frank  unhitched  the  horse  and  held  it  by  the  head,  while 
Slippery  went  back  to  the  store,  lit  the  fuse  and  then  stood 
at  the  rear  door  until  an  explosion,  which  seemed  to  tear 
the  store  asunder  told  the  waiting  yeggs  that  the  moment 
to  commence  their  dangerous  harvest  had  arrived.  While 
Boston  Frank  had  trouble  to  quiet  the  madly  plunging, 
frightened  horse,  Slippery  dove  into  the  store  to  emerge 
again  an  instant  later  choking,  sneezing  and  almost  blinded 
just  as  if  he  had  dynamited  a  box  loaded  with  powdered  red 
pepper  instead  of  a  common  fireproof  safe.  Foiled  in  steal¬ 
ing  the  contents  of  the  safe,  amid  awful  curses,  he  climbed 
into  the  buggy  and  called  to  Joe  to  jump  upon  its  rear,  and 
while  they  heard  all  around  them  loud  call5  and  even 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


97 


pistol  shots  of  the  farmers,  who  had  been  aroused  out  of 
their  slumbers,  Boston  Frank  turned  into  the  highway 
leading  back  to  Dixon  and  the  race  for  their  liberty  com¬ 
menced. 

They  dashed  down  the  wagon  road  at  top  speed, 
Boston  Frank  ever  urging  the  horse  on  to  greater  efforts, 
as  in  speed  lay  their  only  salvation. 

Passing  the  first  farm  house  which  fronted  upon  the 
wagon  road,  they  could  see  by  the  light  cast  by  a  lantern 
that  stood  beside  him  upon  the  porch,  a  man  dressed  in 
his  night  robe  raise  a  revolver  and  after  taking  a  careful 
aim  at  the  approaching  buggy,  just  as  they  were  in  line  with 
him,  discharge  point  blank  in  quick  succession  its  six 
messengers  of  death  into  their  midst.  But  Boston  Frank 
did  not  slacken  the  pace,  on  the  contrary  he  urged  the  horse 
to  ever  greater  speed. 

Not  a  word  was  exchanged  by  the  inmates  of  the  buggy 
during  this  race,  and  for  several  miles  farther  they  drove  at 
the  utmost  speed,  then  the  horse’s  terrific  gait  commenced 
to  slacken,  and  now  that  they  were  beyond  the  aroused 
neighborhood,  Boston  Frank  slowed  the  horse  and  turned 
in  at  a  road  crossing  to  throw  possible  pursuers  upon  a 
wrong  trail. 

Just  as  they  realized  how  close  an  escape  they  had, 
Slippery  keeled  over  against  Boston  Frank  and  said  hoarsely : 
“Frank,  for  mercy’s  sake  take  me  where  I  can  get  a  drink 
of  water.  The  fellow  who  fired  at  us  from  the  first  farm 
house  hit  his  mark,  for  I  am  shot.”  “Slippery,  old  boy,” 
now  queried  Boston  Frank,  not  believing  that  such  a  dire 
calamity  had  overtaken  them,  “you  are  joking,  aren’t 
you?”  And  then,  when  Slippery  did  not  answer,  he  looked 
into  his  pal’s  face  and  saw  there  the  pallor  of  death  while 
two  dark  lines  emerging  from  the  corner  of  his  mouth 
caused  by  the  wounded  man’s  life  blood,  trickling  away, 
proved  to  him  that  his  comrade  in  crime  had  only  too  ac¬ 
curately  spoken  the  bitter  truth.  Now  he  coughed  and 
when  Boston  Frank  saw  a  stream  of  blood  shoot  out  of  the 


98 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


wounded  man’s  mouth  and  heard  a  choking  noise  in  his 
throat,  he  readily  recognized  the  nature  of  the  hurt  and 
that  Slippery  had  been  shot  through  his  lungs. 

Boston  Frank  in  sheer  desperation  again  urged  the 
rapidly  tiring  horse  to  one  last  effort,  but  soon  the  best 
speed  he  could  get  out  of  the  animal  was  a  slow  trot.  Again 
Slippery  most  piteously  begged  for  a  drink  of  water,  and 
taking  a  desperate  chance,  when  he  saw  in  the  darkness  an 
open  gate  that  led  into  a  field,  he  guided  the  tired  horse 
into  it,  and  after  Joe  had  closed  the  gate  behind  them  he 
drove  ahead  until  a  thick  thorn  hedge  stopped  further 
progress.  Here  they  lifted  the  wounded  man  out  of  the 
buggy  and  laid  him  upon  the  ground.  He  continued  to 
plead  most  piteously  for  a  cooling  drink  of  water 
to  appease  his  torturing  fever  thirst.  “Joe,”  cau¬ 
tioned  Boston  Frank,  after  he  had  securely  tied  the 
horse  to  the  hedge,  “you  take  care  of  poor  Slippery  until  I 
return  with  my  derby  filled  with  water,  as  I  cannot  bear 
to  listen  longer  to  the  poor  fellow’s  heart-rending  ap¬ 
peals.”  Then  he  disappeared  into  the  night,  resolved  to 
find  water  at  any  price. 

“Joe,  Joe,  come  here,  Joe,”  the  lad  heard  Slippery 
weakly  calling  a  moment  later,  and  he  knelt  beside  the 
wounded  man  and  asked  him  what  he  desired.  Just  then 
Slippery  could  not  answer,  as  he  was  again  vomiting  blood, 
and  Joe  tried  to  ease  his  breathing  by  elevating  his  head 
with  boughs  he  broke  from  the  hedge. 

“Joe,”  the  wounded  fellow  called  again,  “where  are 
you,  Joe?”  The  boy  placed  his  hand  in  the  outstretched, 
searching  hands  of  Slippery,  who  feebly  pressed  them  with 
his  own  and  said,  “Joe,  I  know  I  am  mortally  wounded,  and 
want  you  to  make  me,  a  dying  man,  a  promise.  I  meant  to 
forsake  crime  and  live  the  life  of  an  honest  man  for  your 
sake  after  we  had  successfully  pulled  off  this  job— my  last 
one.”  He  paused  a  moment  and  then  continued,  “I  took 
you  with  us,  so  when  you  and  I  went  to  your  home  in  Rugby 
you  would  never  forget  that  you  had  been  my  accomplice 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


99 


And  there  in  the  solitude  of  the  night,  kneeling  beside  his  dying  com¬ 
panion,  Joe  solemnly  swore  to  forever  forsake  the  “Road.” 


100 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


and  would  not  be  apt  to  peach  on  me.  I  know  that  the 
wound  I  received  is  the  just  punishment  for  the  greatest 
wrong  mortal  man  can  commit,  that  of  leading  a  harmless 
boy  astray.”  Again  he  paused,  as  if  his  troubled  conscience 
overpowered  him,  and  then  with  a  renewed  effort  that 
heavily  taxed  his  fast  ebbing  vitality,  he  added,  “Joe,  for 
the  love  you  bear  for  your  mother,  of  whom  you  have 
spoken  so  often,  swear  now,  before  the  Almighty,  that  you 
will  from  this  moment  forward  shun  the  three  evils  which 
have  brought  me  to  this,  and  which  are  ‘Bums,  Booze  and 
Boxcars’,  and  that  you  will  not  further  associate  with  the 
criminals  at  the  flat,  for  if  you  return  to  them,  on  account 
of  this  night’s  work  you  will  be  forever  one  of  their  num¬ 
ber.”  And  there  in  the  solitude  of  the  night,  kneeling  be¬ 
side  his  dying  companion,  with  his  arms  uplifted  towards 
the  starry  firmament,  Joe  solemnly  swore  that  he  would 
beware  of  “Bums,  Booze  and  Boxcars”,  and  quit  the  very 
people  whose  acquaintance  he  had  made  through  Slippery. 

For  a  moment  all  was  silence,  which  was  interrupted 
only  by  the  gurgling  of  the  blood  as  it  welled  up  into  the 
mortally  wounded  yegg’s  throat,  then  came  the  pitifully 
human  appeal  from  the  lips  of  the  dying  man,  “Joe,  where 
are  you,  Joe?  Do  not  leave  me  alone,  Joe,  now  that  all 
have  left  me  and  everything  is  so  dark  before  my  eyes.” 
Then  after  a  brief  pause  he  painfully  stammered,  “Joe, 
find  your  brother  Jim,  then  both  of  you  go  back  to  your 
mother  and  be  once  more  her  boys.”  He  again  became 
silent  and  then,  now  that  it  was  too  late,  he  plainly  showed, 
that  although  he  was  a  despised  yegg,  there  was  one  place 
in  this  wide  world  where  there  would  be  one  true  friend 
waiting  in  vain  for  his  return,  for  he  slowly  added,  “Joe, 
believe  me,  there  is  no  friend  like  mother  and  no  place  like 
home.” 

Then  came  another  hemorrhage  and  a  stream  of  his 
life  blood  shot  into  the  air  and  then,  with  a  last  effort,  he 
drew  Joe’s  hands  to  his  parched,  suffering  lips,  and  while  he 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


101 


covered  them  with  kisses,  the  rattling  in  his  throat  increased, 
then  decreased,  and  finally  stopped — he  had  expired. 

When  Boston  Frank  returned  with  the  water,  he  only 
found  his  dead  pal,  as  Joe,  horror  stricken  by  the  dead 
man’s  glassy  stare,  by  the  blood  covered  corpse,  by  the 
quietude  of  the  night  and  all  the  horrors  which 
had  transpired,  had  fled  into  the  night  as  if  furies 
and  demons  were  pursuing  him,  bent  only  upon 
placing  as  much  space  as  possible  between  his  living  self 
and  the  gruesome  tragedy  he  had  left  behind.  He  climbed 
over  fences  and  forced  his  way  through  hedges;  forded 
creeks  and  swam  streams,  until  from  his  frantic  exertions  he 
became  so  completely  exhausted  that  when  he  fell  into  a 
clump  of  bushes  he  was  unable  to  rise,  and  gradually  sank 
into  a  deep  sleep. 

Then  a  strange  dream  came  to  him.  He  dreamed  he 
was  a  prisoner  locked  up  in  a  narrow  cell,  and  that  he  saw 
Slippery,  the  yegg’s  face  pressed  against  its  cross-barred 
steel  door,  while  on  both  sides  of  him  stood  officers  of  the 
law.  They  were  leading  him  to  the  gallows,  upon  which  he 
had  been  condemned  to  expiate  his  crime,  and  now 
on  his  way  to  face  his  doom  he  had  stopped  to  bid  Joe  a 
last  farewell,  and  Joe  could  distinctly  hear  his  words* 
“Good-bye,  Joe,  do  not  do  as  I  did,  who  when  a  youngster 
ran  away  from  a  good  home  to  follow  Bums,  Booze  and  Box¬ 
cars,  but  go  back  to  your  waiting  mother  before  it  is  too 
late,  for  remember,  ‘The  Wages  of  Sin  is  Shameful  Death’.” 


102  The  Trail  of  the  Tramp, 

CHAPTER  XII. 

“Scattered  to  the  Winds.” 

The  sun  stood  high  in  the  heavens  when  Joe  awakened, 
and  it  was  some  moments  before  he  remembered  the 
horrible  occurrences  of  the  preceding  night.  But 
most  vividly  of  all  he  remembered  the  solemn  promise  he 
had  made  to  his  dying  pal  and  to  strengthen  himself  in  his 
resolve  to  stricly  live  up  to  his  pledge,  he  fell  upon  his  knees 
and  repeated  the  solemn  oath. 

At  a  rippling  brook  he  washed  and  removed  every  trace 
of  the  ordeal  he  had  passed  through,  and  then  inquired  from 
a  farmer  the  direction  to  the  railroad  station  at  Dixon, 
where  he  intended  to  hop  a  train  to  Chicago  and,  arriving 
in  the  city,  find  a  job  so  he  could  support  himself  honestly, 
while  keeping  on  a  lookout  for  his  missing  brother  Jim. 

After  an  hour’s  walk  he  arrived  at  the  railroad  station 
and  found  a  crowd  surging  about  a  baggage  truck 
which  stood  upon  the  station  platform,  and  when  he 
managed  to  push  his  way  through  the  throng  he  found  that 
the  people  were  staring  at  a  blood  soaked  blanket  that 
covered  a  carcass  of  some  sort.  Joe  only  stopped  for  a 
moment,  for  when  one  of  the  men,  more  curious  than  the 
others,  lifted  up  a  corner  of  the  blanket,  Joe  gazed  into  the 
lifeless  features  of  Slippery,  the  yegg,  and  forced  by  his 
emotions  he  retreated  quickly  to  another  part  of  the  plat¬ 
form. 

Here  he  overheard  some  of  the  citizens  discussing  the 
post  office  robbery,  and  he  heard  them  say  that  the  rail¬ 
road  and  city  policemen  had  identified  the  dead  robber  as 
one  of  the  most  dangerous  criminals  in  the  land  for  whose 
appreiiension  dead  or  alive”,  the  government  offered  a 
large  reward.  He  also  heard  that  the  same  country 
store  post  office  had  been  dynamited  twice  in  the  past  three 
months,  and  that  the  postmaster  had  set  a  trap  with  the 
aid  of  his  neighbors,  to  give  the  next  gang  of  burgling  yeggs 
a  hot  reception. 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


103 


Presently  a  loud  shout  was  heard  and  the  crowd  made 
a  rush  to  the  front  of  the  station.  Joe  followed  and  saw  a 
dirt  covered  man,  securely  manacled  to  an  officer,  entering 
the  waiting  room.  Joe  instantly  recognized  Boston  Frank, 
and  heard  that  he  had  been  caught  by  a  farmer’s  posse, 
who,  following  a  trail  of  blood  that  had  dripped  from  the 
buggy,  had  surprised  Boston  Frank  while  he  was  busy  at 
work  burying  the  satchels  containing  the  burglar  tools. 

Joe  caught  Boston  Frank’s  eye  and  forthwith  pushed 
himself  alongside  the  yegg.  While  the  officer  to  whom  he 
was  manacled  paid  close  attention  to  the  postmaster,  who 
told  him  that  although  yeggs  had  spoiled  his  safe  for  a  third 
time,  he  had  protected  his  own  and  the  government’s 
valuables  by  having  placed  a  quart  bottle  of  formaldehyde 
in  the  safe,  Boston  Frank  contrived  to  whisper  to  Joe  that 
he  had  Slippery’s  purse  in  his  hip  pocket,  and  for  him  to 
take  it  and  keep  its  contents,  as  he  himself  would  have  little 
use  for  cash  in  the  penitentiary,  for  a  long  term  now  stared 
him  in  the  face,  and  he  ordered  Joe  to  purchase  a  ticket 
and  take  the  first  train  leaving  for  Chicago  and  to  warn  the 
others,  as  the  officers,  while  searching  him  had  found  an 
incriminating  letter  that  bore  upon  its  envelope  the  correct 
address  of  the  gang’s  hangout. 

Joe  did  as  Boston  Frank  had  directed,  and  a  moment 
later  he  had,  unobserved,  abstracted  a  well-filled  purse 
from  the^latter’s  pocket  and  hid  it  in  his  own.  He  then 
made  his  way  to  the  ticket  window  and  called  for  a  ticket 
to  Chicago.  When  he  pulled  out  the  purse  that  Boston 
Frank  had  told  him  belonged  to  the  slain  criminal,  he  almost 
dropped  it  from  sheer  surprise,  as  he  instantly  recognized 
it  as  his  own  purse,  the  very  one  that  had  been  stolen  from 
him  at  the  Golden  Rule  Hotel,  and  the  loss  of  which  had 
started  all  of  his  misfortunes.  He  paid  for  the  ticket  and 
then  in  a  secluded  spot  he  counted  the  contents  of  the  purse, 
which  proved  to  be  a  windfall  to  the  penniless  lad,  as  it 
amounted  to  twelve  dollars. 

While  he  waited  for  the  arrival  of  the  train,  marvel 


104 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


as  he  might,  he  could  not  solve  the  riddle  connected  with 
the  strange  return  of  his  purse  that  had  so  mysteriously 
managed  to  come  back  to  its  rightful  owner  after  having 
disappeared  at  a  place  five  hundred  miles  removed  from 
Dixon,  Illinois. 

He  rode  to  Chicago  on  the  same  train  upon  which  the 
government  officers  were  bringing  the  corpse  of  the  slain 
robber,  and  while  Boston  Frank  was  chained  to  a  seat  in 
the  smoking  car,  Joe  sat  silently  in  the  first-class  coach, 
thinking  of  the  lucky  escape  he  had  had  and  ever  and  anon 
repeating  the  oath  he  had  made  to  the  now  lifeless  clay 
in  the  baggage  car  ahead. 

While  Joe  was  thus  occupied  he  must  have  attracted 
the  attention  of  one  of  the  train  men,  who  good-naturedly 
stopped  to  chat  with  him,  and  inquired  where  he  was 
going.  '  Joe  told  him  that  Chicago  was  his  destination, 
and  innocently  added  that  he  intended  to  find  employment 
in  the  city.  ‘‘Say,  kid,”  the  good-natured  brakeman 
advised  him,  more  as  a  huge  joke  than  in  a  serious  vein, 
“if  you  cannot  find  anything  better,  hit  my  boss  for  a  job.” 
And  then  he  gave  Joe  the  correct  address  of  his  superior. 

When  the  train  arrived  at  the  Chicago  terminal,  Joe 
boarded  a  street  car  that  brought  him  quickly  to  the  flat 
where  he  intended  to  acquaint  its  inmates  with  the  misfor¬ 
tune  that  had  overtaken  Slippery  and  Boston  Frank,  and 
also  to  deliver  the  verbal  message  the  latter  had  given  him. 
To  his  surprise  he  found  the  front  of  the  house  in  which 
the  flat  was  located  kept  clear  of  public  traffic  by  a  cordon 
of  policemen,  while  several  police  patrols  were  backed 
against  the  curb,  and  were  not  only  loaded  with  the  hand¬ 
cuffed  criminals,  who  had  been  caught  like  rats  in  a  trap, 
upon  the  telegraphic  advice  of  the  Dixon  police  authorities, 
but  with  thousands  of  dollars  worth  of  stolen  property  that 
had  been  found  in  trunks  and  other  hiding  places. 

While  Joe  stood  in  the  crowd  watching  the  finish  of 
those  who  had  transgressed  the  law,  with  far  better  reasons 
than  the  curious  idlers  about  him  could  suspect,  he  felt 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp 


105 


Her  emotions  got  the  better  of  her  and  she  placed  her  arms  aronnd 
the  sobbing  lad’s  neck  and  kissed  him. 


106 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


someone  sharply  pull  his  coat  sleeve.  He  felt  himself 
turning  ashen-gray  from  fright  as  he  thought  some  detective 
had  recognized  him,  and  when  the  same  sharp  pull  was  re¬ 
peated,  trembling  with  fear,  he  turned  to  see  who  it  was  that 
knew  him  in  Chicago,  and  recognized  that  his  dread  was 
groundless  as  it  was  "Babe’'  who  had  pulled  his  sleeve, 
the  youngest  girl  in  the  den  of  the  thieves,  who  luckily 
happened  to  be  away  from  home  when  the  police  commenced 
the  raid  of  the  flat. 

"Come,  Joe,’’  she  whispered,  "I  want  to  speak  to  you.” 
He  followed  the  girl  and  both  walked  to  the  nearby  shore 
of  Lake  Michigan,  where  he  repeated  to  her  word  for  word 
everything  that  had  occurred  since  he  last  saw  her  at  the 
flat,  and  when  he  remarked  that  both  of  them  should  thank 
a  kind  Providence  that  had  kept  them  out  of  the  hands 
of  the  police,  tears  trickled  down  their  cheeks,  while  they 
gazed  out  over  the  restless  waters  of  the  lake. 

It  was  "Babe”  who  broke  the  silence  by  remarking: 
"We  are  indeed  lucky,  Joe.  Just  think  of  what  would  have 
been  our  fate  had  we  been  arrested  with  the  others.  You 
would  have  been  sent  to  a  penal  institution  to  emerge  years 
later  an  ex-convict,  a  marked  man  forever  afterwards, 
while  I  would  have  been  sent  to  a  home  where  I  would  have 
been  forced  to  associate  with  the  most  degraded  wretches. 
I  was  only  seventeen  last  month  and  was  sent  from  a  fara¬ 
way  western  city  to  a  boarding  school  in  the  east,  where  the 
"blue  stocking”  matrons  made  the  unfettered  life  that  I 
had  learned  to  love  at  home  such  a  misery  for  me,  that  I 
ran  away  and  came  to  Chicago  to  seek  employment.  I 
fell  in  with  evil  company,  but,  thank  God,  I  have  yet  enough 
common  sense  left  to  know  when  to  quit,  and  that  is  right 
now.  For  obvious  reasons,  I  am  not  going  to  tell  you  my 
address,  but,”  here  she  turned  and  out  of  a  hiding  place  in 
her  dress  pulled  a  fair-sized  roll  of  greenbacks,  and  then 
she  continued,  "I  have  managed  to  look  out  for  a  day  just 
like  this  one  and  have  saved  a  few  dollars  so  I  could  get 
back  home  in  the  west,  and”  now  she  peeled  a  hundred 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


107 


dollar  bill  from  the  roll  she  held  in  her  hand,  “I  want  you 
to  accept  this  sum  and  forget  that  you  ever  met  me.” 
Here  her  emotions  got  the  best  of  her  and  she  put  her  arms 
around  Joe’s  neck,  who  was  sobbing,  being  unable  to  ex¬ 
press  in  any  other  manner  his  appreciation  of  the  girl’s 
generosity,  and  after  she  had  kissed  the  boy  she  whispered : 
“Joe,  for  the  sake  of  your  mother  I  want  you  to  swear  that 
you  will  never  again  become  a  companion  of  criminals.” 
Joe  repeated  to  her  the  same  solemn  oath  he  had  pledged 
to  the  dying  Slippery,  and  promised  that  he  would  faith¬ 
fully  adhere  to  it  as  long  as  he  lived.  When  he  finished, 
for  the  want  of  something  better  to  give  her  as  a  souvenir, 
he  emptied  the  purse  that  had  so  strangely  come  back  to 
him  and  made  the  girl  accept  it  as  a  token  of  his  gratitude 
for  her  timely  help,  when  a  mere  dozen  dollars  stood  be¬ 
tween  him  and  temptation. 

After  making  Joe  promise  that  he  would  not  attempt  to 
follow  her,  she  bade  him  farewell  and  walked  to  the  nearest 
street  crossing,  and  while  Joe  was  busy  wiping  his  eyes  with 
one  of  his  hands,  he  waved  her  farewell  with  the  other  until 
she  mounted  a  street  car  and  was  whirled  beyond  his  vision. 

After  Joe  had  furnished  himself  with  a  proper  outfit 
of  clothing,  and  all  the  other  things  required  by  a  young 
man  who  intends  to  find  a  respectable  position,  he  engaged 
a  room  at  a  first-class  hotel.  He  ate  his  supper  in  company 
with  honest  people  and  later  retired  for  the  night.  He 
turned  off  the  light,  and  while  he  lay  there  between  the 
sheets  waiting  for  sleep  to  overtake  him,  the  fearful  experi¬ 
ences  of  the  last  two  days  followed  one  another  through  his 
agitated  mind  just  as  if  they  were  moving  pictures. 
When  he  came  to  the  scene  where  he  knelt  by  the  side  of  the 
dying  yegg  and  solemnly  swore  to  forever  quit  the  path 
Slippery  had  shown  him,  he  felt  a  strange  power  drag  him 
out  of  the  bed,  force  him  to  kneel  upon  the  floor  and 
repeat  the  sacred  promise  to  shun  Bums,  Booze  and  Boxcars 
and  then,  when  he  went  again  to  bed,  it  was  only  a  few 
moments  until  he  was  soundly  sleeping. 


108 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


“Where  is  my  Brother  James“” 


ON  the  following  morning  after  he  had  breakfasted,  he 
carefully  copied  all  suitable  advertisements  inserted  in 
the  daily  papers  and  set  out  to  find  employment,  re¬ 
solved  to  accept  the  very  first  job  offered  him,  having 
profited  by  his  Minneapolis  experience  when  he  and  Jim 
refused  many  offers  of  employment  which  for  the  moment 
did  not  look  good  to  them,  but  for  which  on  the  following 
day  they  actually  begged. 

Filled  with  hope  to  quickly  land  a  good  job,  he  called 
at  the  different  addresses,  and,  although  he  walked  for 
hours  up  and  down  the  streets  and  avenues,  everywhere 
he  inquired  the  place  had  been  secured  by  some  other 
person  who  had  called  earlier  in  the  day.  When  afternoon 
approached,  wearied  by  the  resultless  job-hunt  and  dis¬ 
couraged  by  his  continued  misfortune,  he  sank  upon  a  bench 
in  a  city  park  to  take  a  rest. 

While  listlessly  watching  the  passersby  a  touch  of 
homesickness  almost  got  the  mastery  of  him.  He  was  just 
at  the  point  of  deciding  if  it  would  not  be  best  for  him  while 
yet  he  had  the  funds  to  do  so,  to  purchase  a  ticket  back 
to  Rugby  and  ask  his  mother’s  forgiveness.  He  even  arose 
from  the  bench  to  put  this  idea  into  execution,  but  he  only 
made  a  few  steps  when  he  faltered  and  returned  to  his  seat, 
the  courage  to  face  his  mother  without  his  brother  James 
failed  him.  To  find  James  now  became  his  one  des’re, 
but  think  of  whatever  scheme  he  might,  it  seemed  that  to 
have  patience  and  wait  to  meet  him  in  Chicago  was  the 
only  method  he  could  discover. 

Just  then,  whistling  a  lively  tune  and  with  a  toothpick 
saucily  sticking  out  of  one  corner  of  his  mouth,  a  small 
Western  Union  Messenger  boy,  dressed  in  all  the  brass 
buttoned  glory  of  his  snappy  uniform,  passed  the  tormented 
Joe,  and  somehow  the  latter’s  dejected  countenance  did 
not  please  the  telegram  carrier,  and  he  greeted  him  with  a 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp, 


109 


withering,  sneering  look  that  caused  Joe  to  double  his  fist 
within  his  pockets,  aching  to  have  it  out  with  the  fresh 
fellow.  But  before  he  could  muster  sufficient  anger  to 
start  trouble,  the  messenger  boy,  no  doubt  fearing  a  sound 
thrashing,  quickened  his  steps  and  hastened  beyond  the 
danger  zone.  Joe  watched  him  until  he  passed  around  a 
street  corner  and  wondered  what  caused  him  to  be  so  over¬ 
bearing,  and  just  then  the  uniform  of  the  messenger  re¬ 
minded  him  of  the  advice  the  brakeman  gave  him  on  the 
train,  that  should  he  be  unable  to  find  a  job  to  tackle  his 
superintendent  for  employment.  He  consulted  his  note¬ 
book  into  which  he  had  entered  the  address,  and 
taking  a  street  car,  a  few  minutes  later  he  climbed  the  stair¬ 
way  of  a  large  railroad  office  building  and  quickly  found 
himself  in  the  ante-room  of  the  railroad  ruler’s  office. 

When  his  turn  came  he  entered  the  superintendent’s 
office,  whom  he  found  to  be  a  very  kindly  spoken  gentleman, 
and  brought  matters  to  a  quick  head  by  blandly  asking  him 
for  employment.  The  superintendent  smiled  to  see  a 
youngsterlike  Joedaring  to  ask  him,  the  master  of  thousands 
of  employees,  for  a  job,  but  Joe  quickly  convinced  him  that 
he  was  able  to  do  a  man’s  work  and  told  how  his  late  father 
had  been  a  railroad  employee  at  the  time  of  his  demise. 
The  superintendent  became  interested  in  the  open-faced 
lad,  who  most  insistently  pleaded  to  be  given  a  chance  to 
prove  his  desire  to  make  good. 

In  those  days,  the  railroad  companies  were  not  so 
strict  in  the  hiring  of  their  employees  as  they  are  at  present, 
and  when  the  superintendent  asked  Joe  what  sort  of  job 
he  thought  he  could  fill,  the  latter,  remembering  the  natty 
uniform  of  the  passenger  train’s  crew,  promptly  replied 
that  a  brakeman’s  job  aboard  a  passenger  train  would  just 
suit  him,  which  answer  caused  the  superintendent  to  break 
out  into  a  hearty  laugh,  after  he  had  told  Joe  that  he  was 
several  sizes  too  small  to  fill  that  position.  But  Joe  was 
entirely  too  much  in  earnest  to  be  turned  away  this  easily, 
and  drawing  himself  to  his  full  height,  he  pleaded  that,  as 


110 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


he  had  no  home  and  neither  touched  tobacco  nor  strong 
drink,  he  should  at  least  be  given  a  trial,  and  then  finished 
his  appeal  by  telling  the  superintendent  that  a  young,  live 
and  accommodating  trainman  was  preferred  by  the  patrons 
of  every  railroad  tc  a  cranky  one. 

This  last  statement  pleased  the  superintendent  so  well 
that  he  told  Joe  to  report  a  week  after  date  in  a  regulation 
uniform  and  that  he  should  have  a  chance  to  prove  his  side 
of  the  argument.  Joe  thanked  the  superintendent  for 
his  kindness  and  after  he  closed  the  office  door  he  jumped 
down  the  stairway  three  steps  at  a  time,  so  happy  was  he. 
In  fact  he  realized  that  he  had  not  only  found  a  job  that 
would  decently  support  him,  but  one  that  strictly  conformed 
v/ith  his  somewhat  restless  disposition,  as  it  permitted  him 
to  travel  to  his  heart’s  content  aboard  the  flying  trains, 
giving  him  at  the  sarnie  time  a  chance  to  earn  an  honest 
living  and  see  a  bit  of  the  world. 

He  gave  a  tailor  a  "hurry”  order  for  a  trainman’s 
uniform,  and  when  he  reported  on  the  appointed  day  at 
the  superintendent’s  office,  he  was  put  in  charge  of  a  con¬ 
ductor  who  quickly  became  his  fatherly  friend,  because 
Joe  did  everything  required  of  him  in  a  most  satisfactory 
manner.  Each  pay  day  he  placed  a  large  percentage  of 
his  salary  in  a  savings  bank,  and  as  his  wages  were  from 
time  to  time  increased,  he  soon  became  the  owner  of  a 
comfortable  bank  account. 

He  always  kept  a  sharp  lookout  for  his  brother  Jim, 
but  five  years  rolled  around  in  which  time  he  found  no  trace 
of  his  missing  brother.  Finally  he  was  attacked  by  a  severe 
case  of  homesickness;  somehow  he  felt  a  strange  lonel’ness 
come  over  him,  and  the  picture  of  his  mother  could  not  be 
effaced  from  his  mind,  and  fearing  as  much  as  ever  to  return 
home  without  his  twin  brother,  he  finally  v/rote  a  long 
letter,  pleading  for  her  forgiveness  and  inquiring  if  anything 
had  been  heard  from  James  since  they  left  home  together. 
He  wrote  his  own  address  in  the  upper  corner  of  the  en¬ 
velope  and  dropped  the  letter  into  a  mail  box.  But  from 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


Ill 


the  moment  the  letter  left  his  hands,  his  anxiety  while 
waiting  for  an  answer  became  such  a  burden  that  he  was 
unable  to  attend  to  his  duties,  and  had  to  ask  for  a  lay-off. 
As  hours  were  added  to  hours  and  days  to  days  without 
an  answer  arriving,  the  strain  of  the  suspense  finally  be¬ 
came  so  fearful  that  mute  desperation  was  written  in  every 
line  of  his  face,  and  to  end  the  misery  he  was  busily  packing 
his  suitcase  ready  to  leave  for  Rugby,  letter  or  no  letter, 
the  following  morning  and  there  upon  his  knees  plead  with 
his  mother  to  forgive  his  boyish  prank,  when  someone 
knocked  on  the  door  and  when  he  opened  it  he  found  it  was 
his  landlady  who  handed  him  a  letter,  and  he  recognized 
it  as  being  the  same  one  he  had  addressed  to  his  mother  at 
Rugby,  but  there  was  this  time  written  across  its  face: 
“Moved  to  Canada.  Present  address  unknown.” 

Joe  stared  at  the  letter  for  some  moments  as  if  dazed, 
then  he  locked  the  door,  and  when  on  the  following  after¬ 
noon  his  landlady  knocked  to  inquire  if  anything  was  wanted 
he  opened  it.  His  bed  was  still  unruffled,  showing  that  he 
had  not  occupied  it  during  the  night,  and  when  she  saw  the 
same  letter  she  had  brought  to  him,  its  writing  blurred 
and  tear-stained,  lying  open  upon  the  dresser,  and  noted 
the  red  and  swollen  eyes  and  woe-begone  expression  of 
Joe’s  face,  her  motherly  heart  quickly  surmised  the  pitiful 
drama  that  had  been  enacted  behind  the  closed  door  of  the 
room.  She  stepped  close  to  the  broken-hearted  man,  who 
was  sitting  upon  a  chair,  mutely  holding  his  head  be¬ 
tween  his  hands,  and  while  she  lightly  stroked  his  hair  she 
pleaded  with  him  to  go  to  the  street,  as  she  thought  that 
mingling  with  the  crowds  would  prove  the  best  heart-balm 
for  him. 

Joe  took  his  kind  landlady’s  advice,  and  while  walking 
about  the  streets  he  felt  that  the  pangs  of  remorse  for  the 
prank  which  had  deprived  him  of  his  good  mother  were 
less  severe,  and  when  he  began  to  feel  more  like  his  former 
self  he  retraced  his  steps  to  his  lodging  house. 

When  he  reached  South  Clark  Street,  his  progress  was 


112 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


blocked  by  a  jam  of  vehicle  traffic.  The  ever  increasing 
crowd  of  delayed  people  forced  Joe  into  the  vestibule  of 
one  of  the  many  slum  saloons  abounding  in  that  locality, 
and  here  he  watched  the  mounted  police  hard  at  work 
trying  to  again  open  the  thoroughfare.  While  he  thus 
passed  the  time  until  he  could  cross  the  street,  he  was 
accosted  by  a  typical  Chicago  rum-soaked  bum.  “Say, 
friend,”  the  semi-maudlin  wretch  pleaded  while  he  edged 
most  uncomfortably  close  to  Joe,  “would  you  mind  assist¬ 
ing  a  hungry  fellow  who  has  not  eaten  a  square  meal  in  a 
week?”  More  for  the  sake  of  getting  rid  of  his  unpleasant 
company,  than  from  a  desire  to  accord  charity,  Joe  went 
into  his  trouser  pockets  for  a  small  coin  to  hand  to  the 
beggar,  but  while  fumbling  for  the  money  he  caused  his 
trainman  s  cap  to  fall  to  the  pavement.  He  reached  down 
and  picked  it  up,  and  when  he  straightened  himself  he 
pulled  out  a  dime  and  handed  it  to  the  beggar,  who,  in¬ 
stead  of  accepting  the  proffered  donation,  disdainfully 
pushed  aside  the  hand  holding  the  alms  and  stepping 
closer  he  almost  insultingly  leered  into  Joe’s  face.  “Say, 
McDonald,”  he  hissed,  “when  did  you  make  your  getaway?” 
Before  the  astonished  Joe  could  utter  a  single  word  the 
tramp  pointed  at  Joe’s  trainman’s  cap  and  added:  “I  see 
you  are  working  now  for  the  Chicago  &  North-Western 
Railroad,”  and  when  still  no  sign  of  recognition  came  from 
Joe’s  mouth  he  in  a  most  threatening  manner  finished: 
“Do  they  know  your  record  over  there?” 

Joe,  although  he  trembled  with  ill-suppressed  rage  at 
this  street  beggar’s  impudence  to  openly  insult  him  in  such 
barefaced  manner,  held  his  peace  for  the  moment,  as  he 
tried  in  vain  to  fathom  how  and  where  the  mendicant  had 
learned  to  call  him  by  his  correct  name.  To  wring  this 
information  from  the  sodden  wretch  was  his  first  purpose. 
^Say,  fellow,”  Joe  almost  pleasantly  asked  the  beggar, 
“who  told  you  that  my  name  is  McDonald?”  ”Did  you 
think  I  did  not  recognize  you?”  replied  the  bum  in  a  most 
insolent  tone  while  at  the  same  time  he  pointed  his  hand 


IT 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


113 


Say,  friend,”  pleaded  the  semi-maudlin  beggar,  “would  you  mind 
assisting  a  hungry  fellow  who  has  not  eaten  a  square 
meal  in  a  week?” 


114 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


at  Joe’s  birthmark.  “When  you  bent  forward  to  pick 
up  your  cap  I  remembered  you  the  moment  I  put  my  eyes 
on  that  streak  of  white  hair,”  and  then,  sure  that  he  had 
before  him  a  victim  whom  he  could  blackmail  with  perfect 
impunity,  he  inquired,  “Have  you  been  back  to  Rugby 
since  I  saw  you  the  last  time,  and  say,  McDonald,  how  are 
the  chances  for  your  helping  a  poor  friend  to  the  price  of 
a  meal  and  a  bunking  place  for  the  night?” 

Joe  felt  greatly  relieved  when  he  heard  the  fellow’s 
more  familiar  talk,  as  it  seemed  to  prove  that  the  beggar 
had  been  one  of  his  late  father’s  section  laborers,  and  he 
searched  his  pockets  once  more  and  pulled  out  a  silver 
dollar  and  pressed  the  coin  into  the  man’s  outstretched 
palm,  and  then,  wondering  why  he  did  not  even  deign  to 
thank  him  for  this  generous  gift  he  inquired  if  he  had  lately 
been  back  to  Rugby,  and  if  he  ever  heard  what  had  become 
of  his  mother,  Mrs.  McDonald.  Instead  of  an  answer  to  his 
question  the  beggar  straightened  himself  to  his  full  height, 
“So  you  have  not  been  home?”  the  bum  mocked  in  a  most 
impudent  manner,  “a  little  scared  to  show  up  amongst 
the  folks  at  home  with  that  soiled  record  chalked  behind 
their  honest  family  name,  eh?”  As  yet  no  reply  came  from 
the  trainman’s  trembling  lips,  still  under  the  impression  that 
he  was  speaking  to  Joe’s  twin  brother,  the  bum  added, 
while  a  most  diabolical  grin  spread  over  his  ugly  visage, 
“Haven’t  peddled  needle  cases  lately,  have  you?”  “I  do 
not  understand  what  you  are  referring  to,”  the  now  thor¬ 
oughly  mystified  Joe  interrupted  the  beggar,  “I  have  never 
peddled  a  needle  case  in  all  my  life.”  “Trying  to  wiggle 
yourself  out  of  your  past,  eh?”  the  vagrant  scornfully  re¬ 
torted,  and  thinking  that  his  victim  was  trying  to  slip  out 
of  his  net,  he  continued,  “guess  you  think  you  can  fool  this 
old  plinger  and  try  to  work  the  ‘innocent’  game  on  your 
old  jocker,  eh?” 

Joe  again  insisted  that  he  did  not  understand  what  the 
fellow  was  trying  to  say,  and  tiring  of  the  unpleasant  con¬ 
versation  he  blandly  asked  the  beggar  if  he  were  not  some- 


115 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 

what  rum  crazed.  “Call  me  rum  crazed,”  the  wretch 
shrieked  in  towering  rage,  feeling  that  his  victim  was  get¬ 
ting  the  better  of  the  argument,  t!:at  he  intended  should 
form  a  base  upon  which  he  would  later  collect  blackmail, 
and  while  he  shook  his  dirty  fist  in  Joe’s  face,  he  added, 
“I,  crazy?  How  dare  you  call  me  crazy?  I,  Kansas  Shorty, 
the  plinger?”  Then  he  stepped  back  a  pace  and  while  his 
hideous,  rum-bloated  face  was  made  all  the  more  repulsive 
by  his  malevolent  eyes  with  which  he  glared  at  the  shudder¬ 
ing  Joe,  who  only  now,  that  the  fiend  had  revealed  his 
name-de-road  recalled  and  recognized  in  the  person  of 
the  beggar,  the  tramp  who  had  taken  charge  of  his  brother 
James. 

While  the  rogue  was  yet  gloating  over  the  apparent 
discomfort  his  words  had  caused,  Joe  suddenly  threw  him¬ 
self  upon  the  vagabond,  and  while  he  bore  him  to  the  pave¬ 
ment  and  while  his  hands  throttled  the  viper’s  throat,  he 
shrieked  into  the  beggar’s  ears.  “I  am  Joseph  McDonald, 
and  you  die  on  this  spot  unless  you  tell  me  what  you  have 
done  with  my  brother  James.”  They  struggled  desperately, 
one  to  free  himself  from  the  strangle  hold,  while  Joe  wished 
to  force  a  confession  from  the  fellow  beneath  him  whose 
staring  eyes  were  bulging  out  of  his  skull,  and  whose  face 
had  commenced  to  turn  a  bluish-black. 

Quickly  the  usual  city  crowd  gathered  about  the  fight¬ 
ing  men  and  a  second  later  the  slum  saloon  in  front  of  which 
they  were  battling,  emptied  its  filthy  scum  into  the  street, 
all  anxious  to  enjoy  the  combat.  Some  of  the  plingers 
amongst  this  riff-raff  must  have  recognized  their  mate,  and 
thinking  that  the  trouble  was  merely  a  case  of  a  street 
beggar  insulting  a  citizen,  and  noting  that  this  one  W’ore  the 
hated  uniform  of  a  railroad  man — every  tough’s 
sworn  enemy — they  made  common  cause  and  the  next 
moment  Joe  saw  a  heavy  beer  bottle  descending  upon  his 
head,  then  all  was  darkness. 

When  he  regained  consciousness  he  was  lying  upon  the 
floor  of  the  slum  saloon,  with  his  pockets  turned  inside  out 


115 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


and  his  watch  missing,  and  a  dull  pain  almost  bursting  his 
skull.  He  staggered  to  his  feet,  and  while  he  tried  to  steady 
himself  against  a  table,  the  bartender  took  hold  of  his  coat 
and  shoved  him  through  the  swinging  doors  into  the  street, 
and  advised  him  to  make  a  quick  getaway  unless  he  wished 
to  be  arrested  for  attempting  to  murder  a  “poor  and  harm¬ 
less  working  man”. 

For  a  week  his  conductor  did  not  see  Joe,  who  was, 
during  every  moment  of  this  time,  ceaselessly  combing 
the  slums,  the  dives,  the  police  courts  and  even  the  “jungles” 
upon  the  outskirts  of  the  city  in  a  vain  effort  to  get  a  glimpse 
of  Kansas  Shorty. 

To  some  of  the  fellows  whom  he  recognized  as  having 
been  members  of  the  “mob”  which  prevented  his  choking 
Kansas  Shorty  into  a  confession,  he  told  the  story  of  his 
missing  brother  and  repeated  the  strange  conversation 
that  had  passed  between  them  before  he  felled  the  scoundrel 
to  the  pavement.  These  plingers,  knitted  together  by  the 
common  knowledge  that  of  all  human  vultures  they  are 
the  most  despised,  had  only  shrugs  for  the  unfortunate 
man,  and  when  one  of  them,  tiring  of  his  repeated  plead¬ 
ings,  condescended  to  hand  him  a  mite  of  consolation,  all 
the  information  he  cared  to  impart  was  contained  in  the 
rejoinder  that  “Kansas  Shorty  had  jumped  the  city.” 


o 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp.  117 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

“The  Noble  Work  of  the  Salvation  Army.” 

A  MOST  decided  change  had  come  over  Joseph  McDon¬ 
ald  when  he  again  reported  himself  ready  for  duty. 
Since  his  struggle  with  Kansas  Shorty  he  had  re¬ 
peatedly  weighed  every  word  this  rascal  had  spoken 
and  adduced  from  it  that  something  most  dishonor¬ 
able  must  have  been  Jim’s  fate,  and  the  oftener 
he  attempted  to  unravel  the  mystery  that  lay  con¬ 
cealed  behind  the  ill-omened  remarks  made  by  this 
scoundrel,  the  more  morose  he  became  from  the  constant 
strain,  for  his  troubled  conscience  caused  him  to  feel  that 
he  was  equally  to  be  blamed  for  any  disgrace  that  might 
have  overtaken  his  missing  brother. 

The  more  he  worried  the  more  he  became  resolved  that 
even  should  he  never  be  able  to  see  his  brother  again,  the 
chances  that  he  would  some  day  run  across  Kansas  Shorty 
were  far  more  favorable,  as  he  well  knew  how  drifters  of 
his  class  roved  aimlessly  ovei  the  country  as  their  fancy,  the 
wanderlust,  and  more  often  the  police  drove  them  onward. 

To  find  Kansas  Shorty  became  an  obsession  with  Joe. 
If  luck  favored  him  in  his  search,  he  planned  to  plead  with 
the  scoundrel,  but  should  this  prove  of  no  avail,  then  he 
intended  to  strangle  him  until  he  would  divulge  the  secret 
which  shrouded  Jim’s  fate. 

Oftentimes,  especially  when  late  in  the  night,  after 
the  passengers  had  gone  to  sleep  upon  the  coach  seats,  and 
Joe  thought  himself  unobserved,  his  fellow  trainmen,  to 
whom  he  had  confided  his  life’s  story,  watched  Joe,  to  whom 
a  troubled  conscience  refused  peace,  raise  his  hands  before 
him  and  slowly  close  the  fingers  with  such  suggestive  mo¬ 
tions,  that  it  caused  the  trainmen  to  shudder  when  they 
imagined  the  same  fingers  executing  like  motions  while 
entwined  about  Kansas  Shorty’s  throat. 

Joe’s  second  hobby  was  to  study  the  hobo  monickers 
written  upon  or  carved  into  the  railroad  company ’sproperty. 


118 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


From  the  time  his  train  left  the  Chicago  Terminal  until  it 
pulled  into  the  Union  Station  at  Omaha,  where  Joe’s  “trip” 
ended,  he  employed  every  spare  moment  while  they  stopped 
at  stations  or  water  tanks,  to  carefully  read  every  hobo 
sign  that  the  drifters  passing  to  and  fro  over  the  line  had 
left  behind  them,  ever  hoping  to  discover  a  clue  to  Kansas 
Shorty’s  whereabouts  by  finding  his  name-de-rail  with  a 
date  and  an  arrow  beneath  it  pointing  in  the  direction  he 
was  traveling. 

Joe’s  third  and  favorite  hobby  was  to  hunt  hoboes 
who  dared  to  beat  their  way  upon  his  train.  He  finely 
discriminated  betweeu  the  man  in  search  of  employment, 
the  harmless  tramp  who  had  fallen  a  victim  to  the  wander¬ 
lust,  the  sneaking  rogue  who  “toted”  a  six-shooter  for  the 
special  purpose  of  killing  human  beings,  preferring  railroad 
employees  and  hoboes,  and  the  rascal  who  had  trained 
other  people’s  sons  to  beg  a  living  for  him,  exactly  as  an 
Italian  organ  grinder  would  train  a  performing  monkey  or 
bear.  Many  were  the  railroad  lanterns  Joe  had  to  replace 
for  those  he  broke  over  the  heads  of  the  two  latter  classes 
of  tramps,  especially  the  last  ones,  who  clung  even  more 
obstinately  to  their  road  kids  than  a  tiger  clings  to  his  prey. 
The  youngsters  he  had  rescued,  if  he  was  not 
able  to  send  them  safely  home,  he  would  turn 
over  to  proper  authorities,  for  well  he  knew  that 
each  one  of  these  runaway  boys  had  not  only 
somewhere  a  broken-hearted  mother  waiting  for  his 
return,  but  that,  if  they  were  not  stopped  drifting  to  the 
abyss  while  still  young,  with  the  evil  training  that  depraved 
tramps  gave  them,  it  would  be  merely  a  matter  of  time 
before  they  too  would  have  learned  to  destroy  and  pilfer 
railroad  property;  rob  box  cars  and  stations,  and  thus  re¬ 
pay  with  almost  brutal  ingratitude  those  who  had  permitted 
them  to  travel  unmolested  upon  their  trains. 


The  years  rolled  quickly  by  and  although  Joe  had  now 
been  in  the  company’s  employ  for  almost  fifteen  years,  he 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


119 


refused  every  offer  of  promotion,  preferring  his  humble 
trainman’s  job,  that,  although  he  had  years  ago  given  up 
all  hope  of  ever  seeing  his  brother  James  again,  gave  him 
a  chance  to  atone  for  his  own  blighted  past  by  his  self- 
appointed  mission,  that  of  trying  to  combat  single-handed 
and  unassisted  the  most  vitally  important  and  yet  most 
revolting  phase  of  the  whole  tramp  problem.  His  endeavor 
in  this  line  caused  much  ridicule  among  his  fellow  railroad 
men  and  those  who  had  stopped  to  listen  to  tramps  and 
especially  to  plingers,  whom  Joe’s  unselfish  work  had  de¬ 
prived  of  victims  and  who  denounced  him  as  a  “Stool 
Pigeon’’,  as  a  “Spotter”  and  whatever  other  venomous 
attribute  their  black  souls  could  hurl  at  him,  in  an  attempt 
to  damage  his  well  earned  reputation  as  a  benefactor  to 
humanity,  who  in  spite  of  many  threats  of  bodily  injury, 
by  pointing  to  the  seriousness  of  the  road  kid  evil,  proved 
to  the  world  its  intimate  connection  with  the  never  lessen¬ 
ing,  nay,  ever  increasing  numbers  of  thieving  and  murder¬ 
ing  vagrants. 

At  both  ends  of  his  “run”,  at  Chicago,  as  well  as  at 
Omaha,  Joe  had  a  rest  of  twelve  hours  before  he  again  had 
to  report  for  duty.  One  evening,  just  after  he  arrived  at 
Omaha,  his  attention  was  attracted  by  a  band  of  the  Sal¬ 
vation  Army  holding  a  public  service  on  a  street  corner. 
Their  leader  was  loudly  extorting  and  pleading  with  the 
crowd  listening  to  his  service,  for  penitents  to  come  for¬ 
ward  and  permit  the  band  to  pray  for  their  salvation.  He 
was  a  good  orator,  and  to  hear  him  the  better,  Joe  pushed 
his  way  through  the  crowd  until  he  stood  at  the  curb. 

Just  at  the  moment  when  some  of  his  audience  com¬ 
menced  to  titter  at  the  poor  success  the  appeal  seemed  to 
have,  forcing  his  way  through  the  crowd  came  a  half  drunk¬ 
en,  shaggy  bearded  and  poorly  dressed  man,  who,  when  he 
reached  the  open  center  of  the  meeting,  pleaded  with  the 
Salvation  Army’s  leader  to  pray  for  him.  Undaunted  by 
the  fellow’s  rough  appearance  and  the  very  evident  marks 
of  his  craving  for  strong  drink,  the  leader  shook  his  hand 


120 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


and  after  he  bade  him  welcome  asked  him  as  a  primary 
step  towards  complete  salvation  to  make  a  public  confession 
of  his  sins. 

Sobered  by  the  solemnity  of  the  moment  the  penitent 
wretch  straightened  and  then  gave  a  brief  review  of  his  life. 
It  was  the  oft-repeated  story  of  a  runaway  boy,  hailing 
from  a  good  family,  drifting  into  hobo-companionship 
with  all  the  rum,  filth  and  crime  that  such  association 
implies,  and  ended  by  telling  that  on  this  day,  after  having 
so  wantonly  wasted  the  best  years  of  his  life,  he  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  end  it  all  by  placing  his  head  upon  the  rails. 
On  his  way  to  the  railway  yards  he  had  stopped  to  listen 
to  the  service  of  the  Salvation  Army,  and  when  he  heard 
their  leader  plead  for  lost  souls,  especially  those  who  had 
been  rejected  by  every  other  denomination,  he  felt  it  to  be 
an  act  of  God  that  had  caused  him  to  stop,  and  he  came 
forward  to  try  and  make  a  second  and  better  start  in  life. 

When  he  finished  his  pitiful  story  of  a  blasted  life, 
there  was  hardly  a  dry  eye  amongst  the  listeners,  and  tak¬ 
ing  advantage  of  the  good  impression  the  confession  had 
made,  the  Salvation  Army  leader  asked  all  those  who  were 
believers  in  Christ  to  offer  up  a  silent  prayer  for  the  peni¬ 
tent  sinner. 

Joe  joined  the  many  others  who  complied  with  this 
request,  and  holding  his  cap  before  him,  he  bent  his  head 
in  prayer.  Then  a  strange  incident  occurred,  for  just  as 
he  replaced  his  cap  the  same  repentant  wretch  for  whose 
regeneration  he  had  just  prayed,  came  towards  him  and 
while  tears  rolled  down  his  seamed  face  he  stretched  forth 
his  hands  and  pleaded,  “James  McDonald,  unfathomable 
are  the  ways  of  the  merciful  God,  for  here  at  the  moment 
when  I  had  resolved  to  henceforth  lead  a  clean  life  he  has 
sent  you  so  I  could  beg  your  pardon  for  the  greatest  wrong 
a  human  being  could  inflict  upon  a  harmless  boy,  that  is, 
to  wantonly  spoil  his  future.  James  McDonald,  I  recog¬ 
nized  your  white  hair  streak  when  you  lowered  your  head 
to  pray  for  the  salvation  of  the  very  man  whom  you  had 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp 


121 


A  drunken,  shaggy  bearded  and  poorly  dressed  man  pushed  himself 
through  the  crowd,  which  listened  to  the  Salvation  Army  s 
leader  plea  for  penitents  to  come  forward. 


122 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


far  better  reason  to  curse.  Will  you  not  now  forgive  me, 
whom  you  have  known  as  Kansas  Shorty ,  and.  who  will 
seek  in  the  morning  the  first  honest  job  he  has  ever  done  in 
his  whole  life?”  Joe,  dumfounded  at  meeting  the  fellow 
whom,  although  aged  and  disfigured  by  the  unnatural  life 
he  had  been  leading,  he  now  recognized  as  the  tramp  for 
whom  he  had  searched  for  so  many  years,  held  his  peace, 
for  he  recalled  how  he  had  at  Chicago  spoiled  by  undue 
haste  his  chance  to  discover  the  fate  of  his  missing  brother, 
who  had  resembled  him  so  much  that  Kansas  Shorty  for 
a  second  time  made  the  same  error  in  their  identity. 

He  told  the  wretch  that  he  forgave  him,  and  then 
drew  back  and  became  lost  in  the  crowd,  but  while  he  stood 
well  out  of  Kansas  Shorty’s  view,  he  never  took  his  eyes 
off  the  form  of  the  new  recruit  of  that  immense  army  of 
human  wrecks  which  the  Salvationists  have  dragged  out  of 
saloons,  gutters,  penal  institutions  and  back  from  suicide 
to  convert  and  transform  them  into  useful  members  of 
society. 

When  the  Salvation  Army’s  street  service  had  been 
concluded,  led  by  flying  flags  and  keeping  step  to  the  beat¬ 
ing  of  a  drum  they  marched  to  their  prayer  hall.  Kansas 
Shorty,  supported  in  his  unsteady  gait  by  two  brethren 
of  the  Army,  walked  in  the  midst  of  the  procession,  while 
Joe  kept  some  distance  in  the  rear,  never  permitting  his 
eyes  to  stray  off  the  shambling  form  of  the  man  who  held 
the  key  to  the  riddle  that  had  so  effectively  spoiled  Joe’s 
joy  of  life. 

After  the  army  had  entered  the  meeting  hall,  Joe 
called  on  the  leader  and  gave  him  a  brief  outline  of  his  past 
and  asked  him  to  assist  him  to  cause  Kansas  Shorty  to  make 
a  complete  confession.  The  leader  called  his  latest  con¬ 
vert  into  his  private  office  and  explained  to  him  that  it 
was  not  James  but  his  twin  brother  Joe  of  whom  he  had 
begged  forgiveness,  and  he  spoke  so  earnestly  to  the  peni¬ 
tent  outcast  that  the  latter  made  a  clean  breast  of  all  he 
knew  concerning  James  McDonald,  and  although  the  leader 


123 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 

as  well  as  Joe  tried  to  make  him  reveal  more,  he  steadfastly 
maintained  that  after  Jim’s  arrest  at  Denver  he  had  left 
that  city  in  a  hurry  and  did  not  know  anything  further 
concerning  his  fate. 

When  Joe  left  the  Salvation  Army’s  headquarters  it 
was  he  who  had  to  seek  support  to  keep  himself  from  falling, 
as  the  information  he  had  just  received  unnerved  him  so 
completely  that  he  could  barely  walk,  for  what  Kansas 
Shorty  had  told  not  only  proved  that  with  Jim’s  disappear¬ 
ance  he  had  lost  every  member  of  his  family,  but  that  his 
brother  had  also  disgraced  their  good  name. 

Late  that  night  while  he  rolled  restlessly  about  upon 
his  bed,  tormented  by  this  last  disappointment,  and  while 
he  puzzled  his  feverish  mind,  a  strong  resentment  came  over 
him  that  Jim  should  have  permitted  himself  to  be  so  easily 
led  astray  by  a  good-for-nothing  tramp,  but  when  he  re¬ 
membered  the  circumstances  of  his  own  experience  v/ith 
Slippery,  the  yegg,  brotherly  love  got  the  mastery  over  him 
and  an  idea  flashed  through  his  mind,  that  if  Jim  had  been 
arrested  at  Denver  the  court  records  there  should  show  the 
sentence  the  Judge  had  imposed,  and  that,  although  it 
seemed  merely  a  forlorn  hope,  there  was  a  chance  to  pick 
up  the  trail  that  would  lead  to  something,  and  even  if  he 
failed  to  accomplish  anything,  for  the  sake  of  his  own  sat¬ 
isfaction,  that  he  had  done  everything  possible  to  clear  up 
his  brother’s  disappearance,  he  decided  to  leave  on  the 
morning  for  Denver. 


124 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 

CHAPTER  XV. 

“Forgive  and  Forget.” 

IN  the  morning  Joe  put  his  plan  into  execution  by  applying 
for  and  receiving  a  month’s  leave  of  absence,  and  taking 
the  first  train,  he  arrived  early  on  the  second  day 
at  Denver.  Here  he  hastened  to  the  court  house  and 
had  the  city  clerk  search  in  musty  records  and  when  he 
came  close  to  the  date  that  Joe  had  calculated  tallied  with 
Kansas  Shorty’s  story,  they  found  James  McDonald’s 
name,  and  the  sentence  the  judge  had  imposed  which  read: 
“Imprisonment  in  the  Colorado  State  Reformatory  at 
Buena  Vista  until  of  age.” 

This  second  step  towards  unravelling  his  missing 
brother’s  fate  pleased  Joe  so  well  that  before  another  hour 
had  rolled  around  he  was  aboard  a  train  bound  for  Buena 
Vista  to  continue  the  search  there.  At  day  break  he  ar¬ 
rived  at  this  pretty  mountain  city  and  hired  a  livery 
rig  and  drove  to  the  reformatory,  situated  upon  the  out¬ 
skirts  of  Buena  Vista.  Here  he  called  at  the  warden’s 
office,  and  after  stating  his  errand,  again  old  records  were 
searched,  which  showed  that  James  McDonald  had  been 
received  at  the  institution,  but  on  account  of  exemplary 
behavior  had  soon  after  his  arrival  been  paroled  into  the 
care  of  a  rancher  named  Holmes.  Then  the  warden  re¬ 
called  the  case  and  explained  to  him  that  Jim  not  only  had 
become  Mr,  Holmes’  son-in-law  by  marrying  his  daughter, 
but  that  he  was  the  proud  father  of  a  son  and  a  daughter 
and  was  considered  a  respected  member  of  the  community. 
He  also  advised  Joe  to  drive  to  Mr.  Holmes’  ranch,  as  it 
was  only  about  ten  miles  down  the  valley. 

It  was  almost  dinner  time  when  Joe  arrived  at  Mr. 
Holmes  handsome  home,  and  when  he  saw  a  man  standing 
at  the  gate  as  he  approached,  he  immediately  knew  that  it 
was  his  long  lost  brother,  as  he  still  resembled  Joe,  as  much 
as  in  the  past. 

Jim,  cried  Joe,  as  he  swung  himself  from  the  buggy, 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


125 


Jim  ,  cried  Joe,  as  he  swung  himself  from  the  buggy,  and  “Brother 
Joe  came  back  the  prompt  reply,  and  then  with  tears  of 
joy  streaming  down  their  faces  the  reunited 
brothers  embraced  each  other. 


126 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


and  “Brother  Joe,”  came  back  the  prompt  reply,  and  then 
with  tears  of  joy  streaming  from  their  eyes  they  embraced 
each  other,  and  after  their  affectionate  greeting  they  re¬ 
paired  to  a  nearby  bench,  and  while  holding  his  at-last- 
found  brother’s  hands  Joe  remarked,  not  aware  that  his 
brother  did  not  know  that  their  mother  and  their  eldest 
brother  Donald  had  disappeared  in  Canada,  a  land  almost 
as  large  as  the  United  States:  “Brother  Jim,  there  is  just 
one  thing  in  this  world  that  would  add  to  our  happiness  and 
that  is,  I  wish  our  mother  were  here  to  join  us  at  this  happy 
reunion,”  but  hardly  had  he  finished  when  Jim  replied: 
“Joe,  now  that  we  have  at  last  found  each  other,  let  us  do 
what  for  so  many  years  I  have  promised  my  wife  and  babies, 
should  the  good  Lord  answer  my  prayers  and  permit  me  to 
meet  you  again,  and  travel  to  Rugby  and  surprise  our 
mother  and  plead  for  her  forgiveness  before  she  has  passed 
from  among  the  mortals,  as  she  has  no  doubt  suffered  un¬ 
told  anguish  in  all  the  weary  years  since  we  ran  away,  as 
I  have  not  dared  during  all  this  time  to  visit  her  nor  write 
to  her  until  I  was  assured  that  you  were  still  among  the 
living.” 

Joe  merely  nodded  his  head  as  if  assenting,  as  he  did 
not  wish  to  spoil  his  brother’s  gladness  at  this  moment  by 
telling  of  the  fateful  letter  across  the  face  of  which  was 
written:  “Moved  to  Canada.  Present  address  unknown,’* 
nor  of  the  many  official  letters  he  had  in  his  trunk  from  the 
Governor  of  every  Canadian  Province  and  many  other 
officials,  all  of  whom  had  searched  in  vain  for  their  missing 
mother,  and,  too,  he  recalled  those  long  hours  of  fearful 
remorse  behind  the  locked  door  of  his  room,  and  decided 
to  withhold  this  knowledge  from  his  brother  as  well  he 
realized  that  it  would  cause  heart  wounds  which  would 
require  years  to  heal. 

Joe  now  gave  his  brother  a  brief  review  of  his  own  career 
since  they  were  separated,  and  finished  by  telling  him  that 
his  present  occupation  was  that  of  a  railroad  employee-. 
At  this  moment  an  elderly  gentleman  approached  and 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


127 


Joe  introduced  him  to  his  brother  as  Mr.  Holmes,  his 
father-in-law,  who,  while  Jim  left  to  arrange  for  Joe’s 
dinner,  told  Joe  that  after  he  had  engaged  Jim,  the  latter 
had  proven  himself  so  reliable  that  when  a  few  years  later 
his  only  daughter,  Dorothy,  who  had  been  sent  east  to 
finish  her  education,  returned  and  had  fallen  head  over 
heels  in  love  with  Jim,  he  not  only  gave  his  paternal  bless¬ 
ing,  but  on  their  marriage  day  gave  her  for  a  wedding  pres- 
sent  a  deed  to  the  ranch. 

Just  then  the  dinner  bell  rang,  and  when  they  came  to 
the  house  Mrs.  James  McDonald  with  her  son,  a  lad  of 
eight,  and  her  daughter,  a  pretty  girl  of  five,  were  waiting 
for  them,  and  after  Jim  had  introduced  Joe  he  called  his 
attention  to  the  fact  that  his  baby  girl  was  named  after 
her  Aunt  Helen  who  disappeared  so  mysteriously,  and  that 
the  children  had  the  McDonald  family  mark,  the  streak 
of  white  hair  upon  their  heads. 

After  dinner  Jim  called  Joe  into  his  private  office  and 
pleaded  with  him  to  forsake  the  railroad  and  make  his 
future  home  upon  the  ranch.  But  it  was  quite  a  while 
before  Joe  would  even  listen  to  his  proposition,  but  when 
Jim  assured  his  brother  that  he  could  not  think  of  having 
to  part  with  him  again  he  finally  consented  to  the  change. 

During  the  remainder  of  the  afternoon  Joe  was  busy 
writing  his  resignation  and  arranging  to  have  his  property 
transferred  from  Chicago,  while  Mr.  Holmes  and  Jim  were 
away  from  the  house  overseeing  the  work  of  the  ranch. 
After  Joe  had  finished  his  correspondence  he  took  a  scat 
in  a  rocking  chair  upon  the  porch  from  where  he  had  a 
grand  view  of  the  fertile  valley  of  the  Arkansas  and  the  snow 
capped  mountain  ranges  beyond. 

A  little  later  his  sister-in-law  joined  him,  and  although 
she  sat  in  another  rocker  close  to  Joe’s,  he  found  it  impossible 
to  engage  her  in  a  conversation,  try  as  he  might,  as  she  per¬ 
sisted  in  staring  him  in  the  face.  Chagrined  at  what  he 
thought  to  be  an  affront,  he  suddenly  blurted  out;  “Mrs. 
McDonald,  is  there  something  about  my  face  that  interests 


128 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


you?”  Instead  of  an  answer  the  lady  who  had  turned  a 
ghastly  pallor  handed  him  a  small,  paper  wrapped  parcel. 
Joe  opened  the  same,  and  then  after  he  hastily  scanned  its 
contents  he  speechlessly  stared  at  his  hostess.  Great 
God  in  Heaven,”  exclaimed  Joe,  breaking  the  suspense 
and  unable  to  better  express  his  amazement  at  the  singular 
turn  affairs  had  taken,  while  with  a  trembling  hand  he 
drew  forth  from  the  paper  a  small  leather  purse.  Can 
it  be  possible  that  you,  Mrs.  McDonald,  are  Babe  ,  the 
girl  I  met  fifteen  years  ago  in  Chicago,  and  whose  timely 
assistance  gave  me  a  start  upon  the  narrow  path?  I 
am  the  same  girl,  Joe,”  she  quietly  replied,  and  it  was  for 
the  express  purpose  of  getting  a  chance  to  tell  you  that  I 
am  ‘Babe’  that  I  stared  so  rudely  into  your  face,  because 
I  knew  that  now  or  never  had  come  the  climax  in  the  lives 
of  those  who  had  in  former  days  known  each  other  as  Babe 
and  ‘Dakota  Joe’.”  Then  she  took  the  small  leather  purse 
out  of  Joe’s  trembling  hand  and  again  wrapped  it  in  the 
paper,  and  after  striking  a  match  that  she  had  brought 
for  this  purpose,  she  held  the  lighted  splinter  against  the 
paper,  and  when  the  hungry  flames  leaped  up  she  threw 
the  burning  parcel  upon  the  lawn  below,  and  while  they 
both  watched  the  fire  consume  the  fateful  purse,  Mrs. 
McDonald  took  Joe’s  hand  into  her  own  and  while  they 
pressed  a  mute,  but  none  the  less  oath-bound  promise  to 
each  other,  she  solemnly  said:  “For  the  sake  of  Jims 
happy  home  and  our  innocent  children,  for  the  sake  of  the 
name  all  of  us  bear,  and  the  many  years  I  have  lived  an 
honorable  life  to  atone  for  what  occurred  before  the  day 
when  I  last  saw  you  in  Chicago,  I  plead  with  you,  whom,  to 
my  horror,  I  later  discovered  to  be  my  own  husband  s 
missing  brother,  to  let  the  past  be  forgiven,  to  be  buried  in 
silence  and  be  forever  hereafter  forgotten.” 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

“All  is  Well,  that  Ends  Well.” 


129 


JOE’S  sojourn  at  his  brother’s  home  had  reached  the  fifth 
year,  and  although  he  outwardly  gave  every  indication 
of  being  perfectly  satisfied,  his  visit  had  actually  been 
a  continued  torture  to  him,  for  his  brother  became  from  day 
to  day  more  insistent  to  pay  their  mother  at  Rugby  the 
long  intended  visit.  Joe,  who  had  never  yet  dared  to  ac¬ 
quaint  his  brother  with  the  truth  concerning  her  disap¬ 
pearance,  found  it  the  hardest  task  of  his  life  to  dissuade 
Jim  from  making  the  journey  and  to  find  plausible  excuses 
to  prevent  him  from  sending  a  letter  to  Rugby. 

The  “skeleton  in  the  closet”  rattled  ever  more  threat¬ 
eningly,  “Next  Spring,”  was  Jim’s  ultimate  reply,  while 
his  fist  came  angrily  down  upon  the  parlor  table,  after  he 
and  Joe  had  another  of  their  evermore  heated  arguments 
as  to  the  why  and  why  not  they  should  visit  their  mother, 
“Dorothy  and  the  children  and  I  will  certainly  visit  Rugby, 
and  if  you  do  not  care  to  join  us  to  see  her,  we  shall  go  with¬ 
out  you,”  and  then  he  arose  and  left  the  room. 

Singular  indeed  are  the  ways  of  Providence,  for  with 
the  arrival  of  Spring  a  Canadian  colonization  agent  found 
his  way  into  the  fertile  valley  of  the  Arkansas,  where  every 
acre  of  land  was  pre-empted  and  worth  a  huge  price. 
Backed  by  an  unlimited  number  of  well  written  pamphlets 
which  he  freely  distributed,  he  described  Canada  as  equal 
to  the  land  of  Canaan;  that  homesteads  were  begging 
there  for  settlers  and  that  land  would  bountifidly  produce 
anything,  considering  the  northern  latitude. 

Jim,  who  had  saved  a  large  portion  of  the  annual  in¬ 
come  the  ranch  had  earned  became  greatly  interested  in 
that  part  of  the  colonizer’s  story,  in  which  he  spoke  of  the 
enormous  dividends  that  investments  would  bring,  and 
when  the  agent  explained  to  him  that  at  a  small  additional 
outlay  he  could  combine  a  Canadian  trip  with  his  journey 
to  Rugby,  this  settled  the  matter. 


130 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


There  was  not  a  single  loop  hole  left  for  Joe  to  prevent 
the  journey,  and  when  Jim  and  his  wife  commenced  to 
pack  their  trunks,  ready  to  leave  for  Canada  on  the  com¬ 
ing  morning,  with  or  without  Joe,  the  latter  with  a  heavy 
heart  followed  suit,  intending  to  ease  as  much  as  possible 
his  brother’s  grief  when  Jim  discovered  that  his  journey 
to  Rugby  had  been  made  in  vain. 

In  the  morning  Mr.  Holmes  drove  Joe,  Jim  and  his 
wife  and  children  to  the  railroad  station,  but  when  the 
brothers  asked  at  the  ticket  window  for  a  round  trip  ticket 
to  Canada,  via  Rugby,  they  were  informed — to  the  dismay 
of  Jim  and  to  the  joy  of  Joe,  as  this  spelled  additional  de¬ 
lay — that  the  ticket  would  be  only  good  for  stop-overs 
upon  their  return  journey. 

Soon  they  were  aboard  their  train,  and  while  Jim  and 
his  family  had  the  time  of  their  lives,  Joe  could  hardly 
conceal  the  dread  which  racked  his  conscience  when  he 
thought  how  pitifully  different  would  be  their  homeward 
trip. 

The  outward  journey  ended  at  Edmonton,  the  hustling 
“Gate  City  to  the  Arctic”,  and  then  they  commenced  their 
return  trip,  stopping  at  Saskatoon,  the  beautiful  “Hub 
City  of  the  Saskatchewan”;  at  Regina,  that  stately  “Queen 
City  of  the  North  West;”  at  Calgary,  the  “Gem  City  of  the 
Rockies”,  and  travelled  from  the  latter  to  Winnipeg,  the 
“Chicago  of  Canada.” 

They  intended  that  Winnipeg  should  be  their  last  stop, 
as  from  there  they  meant  to  return  via  Rugby  to  their 
Colorado  ranch. 

While  viewing  the  sights  of  cosmopolitan  Winnipeg 
with  its  wide  streets  and  beautiful  avenues,  their  progress 
was  stopped  in  front  of  the  City  Hall  by  policemen,  who 
held  back  a  curious  crowd,  while  they  were  unloading 
several  patrol  wagons  filled  with  oddly  dressed  foreigners. 
Joe  pushed  himself  close  to  one  of  the  policemen  and  in¬ 
quired  the  reason  of  their  arrest,  and  the  obliging  guardian 
of  the  peace  explained  to  him  that  they  were  “Doukho- 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


131 


bors”,  a  religious  sect  that  on  account  of  persecution  had 
left  Russia,  and  although  they  made  first-class  settlers, 
some  of  them  had  been  arrested  on  account  of  queer  prac¬ 
tices  which  conflicted  with  the  laws  of  Canada,  and  v/hich, 
despite  repeated  warnings,  they  refused  to  discontinue. 

By  this  time  the  prisoners  had  been  transferred  into 
the  city  hall,  and  the  officer  volunteered  to  see  to  it  that 
Joe  and  his  friends  would  find  a  good  vantage  point  from 
where  they  could  watch  a  Canadian  court  trial.  Joe 
accepted  the  officer’s  kind  offer,  and  the  latter  opened  a 
path  through  the  densely  crowded  court  room  for  the 
McDonalds,  who  were  soon  standing  at  the  railing  that 
separated  the  prisoners  from  the  public. 

Amongst  the  more  than  a  score  of  prisoners  were 
several  women,  all  of  whom  were  old  hags  with  the  excep¬ 
tion  of  one,  w'ho  was  really  good  looking  considering  that 
she  wore  the  same  homely,  gray  homespun  dress  and  black 
shawl  that  did  service  for  headwear,  v/orn  by  all  the  women 
of  her  sect. 

All  noise  subsided  when  the  judge  entered  the  court 
room.  He  was  a  stern-faced  gentleman,  and  wore  a 
white  wig  and  a  black  robe,  which,  although  they  gave  him 
the  appearance  of  a  patriarch,  also  added  greatly  to  the 
austerity  of  his  exalted  office. 

It  was  against  the  tenets  of  the  Doukhobors  to  employ 
legal  counsel  to  defend  them,  and  so  the  trial  was  quickly 
finished.  The  young  woman  was  the  only  one  amongst 
them  who  could  understand  the  English  language,  and 
she  answered  the  judge’s  questions,  and  when  the  sentence 
had  been  passed,  the  others  in  their  anxiety  to  hear  from 
her  how  long  a  term  they  had  been  condemned  to,  almost 
mobbed  her,  and  in  the  struggle  the  black  shawl  covering 
her  head  fell  to  the  floor. 

“Look,  Jim,  look!’’  shouted  Joe  to  his  brother  above  the 
din  the  Doukhobors  made,  while  at  the  same  time  he  pointed 
towards  the  young  woman’s  head,  upon  which  one  braid  of 
white  hair  stood  plainly  out  against  a  black  braid  on  each 


132 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


side  of  it.  “She  is  the  first  human  being  I  ever  saw  or 
heard  of  that  had  the  birth-mark  of  the  McDonald’s.” 
Then  a  vague  suspicion  flashed  through  his  mind  and  he 
asked  the  officer  to  bring  the  woman  over  to  where  he  was 
standing  so  he  could  question  her  concerning  her  past. 

While  the  judge  and  the  barristers  were  engaged  in 
writing  the  commitment  papers,  Joe  asked  the  woman  to 
tell  him  who  was  her  mother,  and  when  she  pointed  at  a 
wrinkled  hag,  he  had  the  policeman  stand  the  latter  beside 
her  daughter,  who  now  acted  as  interpreter.  Now  Joe 
had  Jim’s  daughter  stand  beside  the  younger  woman,  and 
when  the  old  hag  noted  the  resemblance  between  the  two 
she  paled  and  commenced  to  weep.  Aided  by  the  police¬ 
man,  and  the  promise  that  if  the  Doukhobor  woman  told 
the  truth  concerning  the  young  woman’s  parentage  she 
would  not  be  molested,  and  greatly  influenced  by  the  fact 
that  her  sect,  like  the  Quakers,  consider  telling  an  untruth  a 
mortal  sin,  she  told  the  following  story: 

While  she  and  her  husband  in  company  with  many 
others  of  their  sect  were  crossing  the  Atlantic,  during  the 
stormy  winter  voyage,  her  only  child,  a  little  girl,  died  and 
was  buried  at  sea.  They  landed  in  America  and  were 
loaded  aboard  an  immigrant  train,  which  several  days 
later  stopped  in  a  snow  covered  prairie.  Looking  out  of 
the  coach  window,  the  bereaved  mother  saw  a  little  tot, 
just  the  size  of  their  own  “Maritzka”,  playing  in  the  snow 
below  the  window,  and  yearning  for  her  departed  baby  she 
had  climbed  from  the  train  and  petted  the  little  child,  who 
instead  of  being  frightened  by  the  strange  woman,  permitted 
her  to  kiss  its  rosy  cheeks,  and  while  she  felt  the  tot’s  chubby 
hands  and  soft  limbs,  the  mother  love  which  she  used  to 
lavish  upon  her  own  Maritzka  got  the  upper  hand  of  her, 
and  noting  that  no  one  was  guarding  this  smiling  baby 
girl,  and  that  no  homes  were  near,  she  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  to  have  this  child  replace  the  one  God  had 
taken  from  her.  Realizing  that  the  child’s  clothing  did 
not  match  her  own,  she  quickly  undressed  the  tot,  and  after 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


133 


she  had  wrapped  it  in  her  shawl  she  climbed  aboard  the 
train,  which  at  this  moment  commenced  to  pull  away. 
While  she  dressed  the  child  in  the  clothes  which  had  be¬ 
longed  to  her  own  child,  she  discovered  that  she  had  over¬ 
looked  a  locket  that  hung  around  its  neck,  and  that  ever 
since  that  day  had  kept  this  place.  She  now  caused  her 
kidnapped  daughter  to  take  off  and  hand  this  locket  to  Joe, 
and  when  he  opened  it  he  found  his  late  father’s  and  his 
mother’s  picture  iff  it,  and  an  inscription  that  read,  “Henry 
McDonald  to  Ethel,  his  wife.” 

Then  Joe  and  Jim  quickly  proved  to  the  young  woman 
that  they  were  truly  her  brothers,  and  promised  her  that 
they  would  properly  look  after  her  every  need  if  she  would 
part  with  the  foreign  woman,  who,  in  her  ignorance,  had 
not  only  spoiled  her  life,  but  had  caused  her  father’s 
death.  She  consented  to  go  with  them  and  took  a  tear¬ 
ful  farewell  of  the  Doukhobor  woman,  who  had  been  a 
mother  to  her  all  these  years,  and  although  poor  herself, 
had  provided  her  with  a  fair  education. 

The  story  of  the  strange  finding  of  their  long  lost 
sister  traveled  through  the  court  room,  and  when  it  came 
to  the  attention  of  the  judge,  he  suspended  the  young 
woman’s  sentence  so  her  brothers  could  take  her  back  with 
them  to  the  States.  He  was  anxious  to  hear  from  their 
own  lips  the  story  of  the  strange  recovery,  and  he  induced 
Joe  to  repeat  to  him  every  fact  connected  with  the  loss  and 
the  finding  of  their  sister.  After  Joe  had  finished,  the  judge 
seemed  so  well  pleased  with  the  story  he  told,  that  he  begged 
them  to  be  seated  so  he  could  send  for  a  reporter  of  Winni¬ 
peg’s  leading  paper,  “The  Manitoba  Free  Press”,  so  all 
the  world  could  read  of  the  wonderful  recovery  of  their 
sister.  They  gladly  consented,  and  then  the  judge  gave 
whispered  instructions  to  a  messenger. 

When  the  messenger  returned  the  judge  arose  from 
his  chair  and  met  him  half  way  across  the  court  room,  and 
both  entered  an  adjacent  jury  chamber,  from  which  the 
judge  a  few  minutes  later  emerged  and  beckoned  to  the 


134 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


McDonalds  to  join  him  in  this  room.  When  they  entered 
the  jury  chamber  they  found  themselves  in  the  presence 
of  an  elderly  lady  seated  at  a  table,  whose  silvery  hair  lent 
an  added  charm  to  the  sad  expression  of  her  face,  and  whom 
the  judge  introduced  as  the  reporter  sent  by  the  ‘‘Free 
Press”  to  v/rite  their  interesting  story  for  that  paper. 

Joe  then  repeated  the  story  of  the  mysterious  disap¬ 
pearance  of  their  baby  sister,  and  while  he  narrated  her 
recovery  after  so  many  years,  his  strange  tale  caused  the 
attentively  listening  lady  reporter  to  exclaim;  ‘‘How  won¬ 
derful  are  the  ways  of  our  Lord.”  Wdien  Joe  had  finished 
the  judge  inquired  of  the  brothers  what  their  intentions  were 
concerning  their  sister’s  future,  to  which  question  Jim 
answered  that  they  would  take  the  earliest  train  to  Rugby 
and  that  he  thought  it  would  be  best  to  leave  her  there  in 
care  of  their  mother  and  their  eldest  brother  Donald. 

W’hile  he  was  talking  the  judge  had  taken  off  his  wig 
and  laid  aside  his  robe.  Hardly  had  Jim  finished  unfold¬ 
ing  his  plan,  than  the  judge  wheeled  around,  and  when  the 
brothers  looked  in  the  direction  of  his  uplifted  finger,  which 
was  pointing  towards  the  back  of  his  head,  to  their  com¬ 
plete  amazemxcnt  they  saw  there  the  sam.e  strange  streak 
of  snow  white  hair  that  distinguished  every  member  of  the 
McDonald  family.  Ere  they  could  utter  a  single  syllable 
the  judge  again  faced  them  and  told  them  that  he  him¬ 
self,  was  their  brother  Donald  McDonald,  and  that  after 
they  ran  away  from  home  he  and  their  mother  had  emi¬ 
grated  to  Canada,  where  by  hard  v/ork  and  frugality  they 
had  managed  to  send  him  to  a  university,  from  which, 
after  he  had  studied  law,  he  had  gradually  been  promoted 
to  a  judgeship. 

Joe,  v/hose  conscience  had  troubled  him  ever  since  the 
fatal  moment  when  his  unopened  letter  had  been  returned 
to  him  from  Rugby,  broke  the  profound  silence  that  pre¬ 
vailed  in  the  room  after  the  judge's  revelation  as  to  his 
identity,  by  asking  the  one  question  ever  supreme  in  his 
mind.  He  wished  to  know  if  his  newly  found  brother 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


135 


Donald  could  not  tell  them  their  mother’s  present  address, 
so  he  and  Jim  could  hasten  to  her  and  beg  her  pardon  for 
all  the  trouble  their  running  away  from  their  home  must 
have  caused  her. 

Tears  were  welling  into  the  judge’s  eyes  when  hepointed 
to  the  lady  at  the  table,  and  then  with  his  voice  choking 
with  emotion  he  said:  “This  lady  is  not  a  reporter,  but  is 
our  own  dear  mother,  and  I  am  sure  that  she  will  gladly 
forgive  you  for  your  thoughtless  boyish  prank,  for  you 
plainly  show  how  grieved  and  repentant  you  are,  and  how 
anxious  you  will  henceforth  be  to  atone  by  true  filial  de¬ 
votion  in  the  future  for  the  nameless  woe  you  have  brought 
upon  her  life  in  the  past.” 

As  if  spurred  on  by  a  common  impulse,  Joe  and  Jim 
humbly  knelt  before  the  sweet  faced  lady  in  whose  care¬ 
worn  face  they  readily  recognized  the  countenance  of  their 
own  once  so  happy  mother,  and  pleaded  for  her  forgive¬ 
ness.  While  they  were  still  waiting  for  the  words  which 
would  end  a  penance  stretching  over  twenty  weary  years, 
she  arose  from  her  chair,  and  trembling  with  emotion 
lifted  her  withered  arms  high  above  her  head,  and  with  a 
face  that  bespoke  the  joy  which  had  at  last  blessed  her 
life,  she  prononunced  this  benediction: 

“Oh,  Henry  McDonald,  my  dear  departed  husband, 
how  I  wish  that  at  this  happy  moment  you  were  standing 
beside  me  to  assist  me  in  blessing  those  who  have  come 
homie,  and  praising  the  good  Lord  above  us  from  now  until 
my  children  bury  me,  for  having  this  day,  after  so  many 
sorrowful  years,  mercifully  answered  my  tearful  prayers.” 

This  maternal  blessing  was  followed  by  a  most  affec¬ 
tionate  greeting  and  then  the  happy  family  repaired  to 
Judge  Donald  McDonald’s  stately  mansion  where  they 
further  celebrated  their  reunion. 

When  some  weeks  later  Joe  and  Jim  and  the  latter’s 
family  returned  to  the  Buena  Vista  ranch  they  not  only 
had  their  sister  Helen  accompany  them,  but  had  persuaded 


136 


The  Trail  of  the  Tramp. 


their  beloved  mother  to  take  a  pleasure  trip  to  their  Colo¬ 
rado  home,  and  according  to  the  latest  reports  the  judge  is 
having  the  time  of  his  life  trying  to  induce  the  happy 
mother  to  return  to  her  home  in  Canada. 


This  was  Canada  Joe’s  story. 


d] 


A  List  of  the  Books 
ON  Tramp  Life 


THE  FIRST  BOOK 

LIFE  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  A-No.  1 

THE  SECOND  BOOK 

HOBO-CAMP-FIRE-TALES 

THE  THIRD  BOOK 

THE  CURSE  OF  TRAMP  LIFE 


THE  FOURTH  BOOK 

THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  TRAMP 

THE  FIFTH  BOOK 

THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  FEMALE  TRAMP 

THE  SIXTH  BOOK 

THE  WAYS  OF  THE  HOBO 

THE  SEVENTH  BOOK 

THE  SNARE  OF  THE  ROAD 

THE  EIGHTH  BOOK 
FROAI  COAST  TO  COAST  WITH 
JACK  LONDON 

Each  title  deals  with  a  different  phase  of  the  horrible 
existence  that  is  nowadays  voluntarily  led  by  more  than 
three  hundred  thousand  chronic  hoboes,  so  that  every¬ 
body,.  especially  restless  youths,  will  find  the  contents  of 
each  volume  an  everlasting  warning  against  the  Road. 

'Vhe  yluthor  has  carefully  avoided  the  least  mention  of  auything  that 
wonld  be  unfit  reading  for  ladies  or  children. 

Ji  complete  set  of  these  moral  and  entertaining  fBooh  should  be 
in  every  Home. 


